


Blue Moon

by azaleahs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon-Typical Behavior, Dumbledore's Army, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azaleahs/pseuds/azaleahs
Summary: Every once in a blue moon, things went right for Neville Longbottom. Which is exactly why, on 1st September of 1995, Evelyn Bishop came marching into his compartment on the train, professing her absolute lack of skills in Herbology and her vivid desire to pass her Herbology O.W.L., with his help of course.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neville Longbottom/Original Character(s), Neville Longbottom/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Mimbulus Mimbletonia

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is cross posted on my main wattpad account, azaleahs.

For the first time in her entire Hogwarts career, Evelyn Bishop was wary of the first of September.

Well, it wasn't exactly the first time. When she was newly eleven and just starting school, she was weary of the changes it would bring her. That bought of anxiety had been squashed within twenty minutes of being on the train, when the Trolley Witch had brought along pumpkin pasties and boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

Then, there had been the time when she was thirteen, about to start her third year. That first of September had only been two months after her . . . well, for lack of better words, her incident. That year she had been weary of just about everything. She had spent the majority of that year with a rather large secret, one that she still hadn't told to anyone. And while the days had worn on from that year, unfortunately, she wasn't very sure if the third year anxiety had ever really worn off.

(However, that was a story for another time.)

But now, she was freshly fifteen and about to start her fifth year. She was no longer nervous of going to Hogwarts and only slightly hyper aware of her own secrets, but instead dealing with the large amount of panic when she realized that fifth year meant O.W.L.s year.

More specifically, it was the year that she would have to take the dreaded Herbology O.W.L.

If her years at Hogwarts had taught Evelyn anything, it was that she absolutely, one hundred and fifty percent hated Herbology. Wait, no ㅡ she _loathed_ Herbology. Any other class, she managed to get by in. She had spectacular marks in Charms, Transfiguration, and Muggle Studies (she was a half-blood, so her father had already exposed her to everything Muggle before she even knew that she was a witch). She did average in Defense, History of Magic, and Divination (considering that all you really had to do was predict a few deaths for Trelawney to think you were actually having premonitions). And somehow she managed to scrape by in Potions despite the professor being the biggest git to walk the face of the Earth. But then, there was Herbology.

From the second she had begun the class, it appeared that the idea of passing every class was thrown out the window. The class, while taught by Professor Sprout, who was one of the nicest women that Evelyn had ever met, was just impossible to grasp. Understanding why Mandrakes screamed literal bloody fucking murder or why bubotubers oozed petrol-smelling pus was completely beyond her. She tried her absolute best, studying for hours on end, but nothing seemed to stick to her brain at all. It was just unfathomable.

It just never really ended up being that big of an issue until this year. Her grades had never been so poor that it caused her a problem when it came to progressing on to the next year or was such a big issue that her parents had to be informed of their daughter's performance. But this was O.W.L.s year, for Christ sake. Even Sprout had warned Evelyn at the end of last term that if she was planning on getting an 'Acceptable' on her exam, she would have to make some drastic changes when it came to her capability of understanding the course.

Because, obviously, that sort of thing was able to happen overnight. Yeah, of course.

So instead of gossiping with the other girls in her compartment on the train like she normally did, she was grumbling on about her inevitable failure in Herbology, which in Evelyn's mind, somehow led her to failing all her other courses, not being able to advance to N.E.W.T. levels in any subject, which would leave her without a future career, a home, and force her to begin living in a cold, damp cardboard box on a sidewalk in London until she was struck with the plague leaving her to die.

Although, that was probably a little far fetched. Evelyn, bless her heart, was utterly over dramatic. Plus, Parvati Patil interjected that the chances of her catching the plague were slim to none.

"I just don't know what to do, I can't fail the damn course. I need at least an Acceptable on the test, but watch me end up with a Troll mark," Evelyn grumbled, causing Parvati and Lavender Brown to chuckle at the girl's groans.

"You can't be _that_ bad at Herbology," Lavender remarked from the other side of the compartment, where she had her feet kicked up on the length on the bench and a beauty magazine in her hands. On the cover, a witch was winking seductively while holding some new fangled mascara that was supposed to grow your eyelashes overnight. However, despite being a product of the wizarding world, Evelyn had a feeling that entire claim was a bunch of marketing bullshit. Flipping past another perfume ad, which filled the compartment with a floral scent, Lavender continued. "I mean, it's just plants."

"Easy for you to say. The plants haven't tried to kill you before in class," Evelyn snapped, causing the other two in the compartment to remember back to third year when the Bishop girl had been sent to the infirmary because her hand had strayed a little too close to a fanged geranium.

Beside her, Parvati rolled her eyes. "Quit being melodramatic, Ev. The plant didn't try to kill you."

"It bit me, Parvati! _Bit_ me. Like the kind of biting that draws blood."

"Well, why did you think it was a good idea to put your hand next to a plant that had fangs?" Lavender interjected, while looking up from her magazine and letting out a snort.

Evelyn glowered at her housemate. "Because I didn't think the plant would bite a damn person."

"Funny, that's exactly what you said when the chomping cabbage tried to take chunk out of you."

"That's only because Sprout said they chomped on carrots, not fingers!"

"And this is why you should consider not touching anything in class," Parvati remarked with a smirk.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, a frown working it's way onto her face. "Yeah, definitely. Stop touching things when Sprout tells us too and lose the participation points, which at this rate, have been the only thing keeping my grade afloat. If the plants don't kill me by the time the O.W.L. rolls around, surely the end of my life is going to be because of that exam. I can see my funeral now. Make sure to tell my parents to put _Death By O.W.L._ on my gravestone," Evelyn exclaimed with a loud sigh, extending her hands as finished her hands as if to symbolize the words spread across the future headstone. She paused for a moment before adding, "Also, if I come to haunt one of you, it's because I found out who keeps stealing from my chocolate stash during the school year."

Lavender raised an eyebrow. "Why would it be one of us? We also live with Hermione, y'know."

Evelyn let out a snort at Lavender's words. Trying to imagine Hermione Granger (the girl who started S.P.E.W. and was also at a damn prefect meeting), stealing her chocolate stash was far too far fetched of an idea. "Sure, sure. Makes perfect sense. Hermione will be the chocolate thief in the room when I'm going to get an Outstanding on my Herbology exam."

At the sound of Evelyn's words that were practically dripping with sarcasm, Lavender let out an obnoxious groan. "Are you honestly going to keep prattling on about this Herbology failing nonsense the entire ride? You're starting to sound like Hermione, for Godric's sake. There are other things that Parvati and I would rather discuss, you know."

It was then that Evelyn was reminded about the one thing that she didn't quite understand about herself. Why, year after year, she willingly chose to sit in a train compartment with the likes of Lavender Brown, the brunette wasn't sure. Granted, they shared a dorm ㅡ along with Hermione and Parvati ㅡ which meant that Evelyn should at least _try_ and be civil with the girl. But frankly, after five years of trying that approach, the brunette was convinced that nothing good came of a girl whose first and last names were both color words. 

"Yes, sure, Lavender. I'm sure we're all up for another rousing conversation about how you would rather spend your hours at school playing with a certain Gryffindor's ㅡ "

"Evelyn!" Parvati cried out from beside her, half in annoyance with the girls bickering and half in horror at what she was certain was to come out of the brunette's mouth.

"Calm down, Patil, I was only going to say wand," Evelyn retorted with a laugh, even though that probably didn't make the situation all that better. And from the look on Lavender's face, she was fairly certain that she was right.

"You two seriously need to work out your differences," Parvati mumbled, glancing down at the now half-empty box of beans. Even from the vague look of annoyance on her face, Evelyn could automatically tell that Parvati would prefer if her sister, Padma, was here to battle Lavender and Evelyn's quarrels like she normally did. But alas, Padma was attending the prefect meeting with Hermione, the Ravenclaw Patil sister having received her badge at the end of summer. Turning towards the girl across from her, Parvati raised a brow. "Lav, I get that you're bored with the topic, but Evelyn has every right to be panicking."

Evelyn turned to the girl beside her with a beaming smile ㅡ at least, as beaming as it could be on a person who was having a midlife crisis over grades at the age of fifteen. "See Lavender, Parvati understands. Now what the hell do I do about this?"

Lavender groaned and looked back at her magazine. Evelyn rolled her eyes and flipped her the bird, before looking back at Parvati expectantly. The Patil sighed, before mulling over Evelyn's predicament for a moment. Finally, the dark haired girl nodded once to herself before speaking.

"You could probably get someone to tutor you. For Herbology, I mean," Parvati pointed out, taking a handful of Every Flavour Beans from the box in her lap. One by one, she began popping them in her mouth, her face making the appropriate change that matched her reaction to the flavor. Once she made what Evelyn was pretty sure was the face of someone who had just tasted a bean of either the rotten egg or dirt flavors, she weakly added, "That way, when exams come 'round, you'll at least have some idea of what you're doing."

A tutor. It was a simple answer to all of Evelyn's issues. Another student who could potentially help the Bishop girl and figure out why things like Snargaluff and Devil's Snare were just out of reach when it came to understanding. A tutor for Herbology would be able to help Evelyn figure out what in the actual hell she needed to learn before O.W.L.s as well as figuring out how she was going to retain all that learning for the actual exam. However, there were two issues with that entire solution.

One, Evelyn wasn't really keen on getting a tutor. She had heard all the tutoring horror stories, of people who completely blew you off during sessions or acted all high and mighty because you didn't understand what they viewed was an "easy" concept. She didn't really want to sit around and waste her time with someone who would only judge her on her idiocy in Herbology when she could slam her head against her textbook in pure anxiety just fine on her own.

And two, where in the world where would she find someone who was actually willing to tutor her at all, in Herbology nonetheless? It was no secret that the majority of Hogwarts didn't really enjoy the class, whether they did well in it or not. Being able to find a student who was either in her year or above that would be willing to walk her through the scathing task of O.W.L review seemed almost impossible.

The first issue was slightly less important, but the second would probably be where Evelyn had trouble when it came to this whole tutoring thing. So naturally when she couldn't figure out a solution in a few short minutes, Evelyn groaned, let her head slam back against the seat, and threw a hand across her forehead like someone in distress. Because, obviously, that was the appropriate reaction.

"Let me guess," Parvati sighed, staring at Evelyn pointedly, "that brain of yours found exactly seventy four issues with getting a tutor."

The brunette shook her head, curls shaking against her shoulders. "Actually, just two. Although they both probably revolve around the same issue. Who in the fuck do I get to tutor me?"

Parvati looked at her like she was stupid. Evelyn looked back with a face that said she was well aware of that fact so she best just get on with it. Parvati rolled her eyes. Evelyn just sighed vehemently.

And then, from across the two, "You should get Dean Thomas to tutor you."

Evelyn's face contorted in confusion and she raised one eyebrow as she looked over at Lavender. "I don't even think Dean _likes_ Herbology, let alone would be able to tutor me in it."

"So? Maybe you could get a boyfriend out of it. Or even just a shag; apparently its good for relaxing nerves. And anyways, you two looked quite taken with each other at the ball last year."

At that, Evelyn bit her tongue as she tried to hold back a snort. Clearly Lavender was unaware of the _real_ reason she and Dean had attended the Yule Ball as dates. In the simplest terms, Seamus Finnigan, Dean's best mate and Lavender's own date to the ball, had realized early on how overbearing the girl could be. So, he enlisted his mate into roping one of Lavender's friends into being his date so there could be some pressure taken off the night.

(It ended up taking the promise of two butterbeers, a box of droobles, three sugar quills, and an acid pop for Dean and Seamus to get Evelyn to agree to the plan, seeing as she told the two several times, in several different ways, all with varying degrees of curse words, that she and Lavender were not friends.)

(Evelyn was also positive that Seamus had eaten some of the droobles before he gave them to her, the fucking git.)

"Thanks for the advice, Lavender, but I should probably find someone a tad more qualified for the job."

"She's right, Lav," Parvati stated, while absentmindedly beginning to braid her long, ebony hair. Turning to Evelyn with a small smile on her face, she added, "As I was going to point out earlier, if you're really struggling that much, you should ask Neville. He's a genius when it comes to Herbology."

Yeah, Parvati was definitely justified in looking at Evelyn like she was stupid. Because how in the name of Merlin's beard could Evelyn have completely glossed over the most obvious answer to her issues? She was an idiot for not realizing it sooner. If she was smart, the answer would have to come so much sooner. Because Parvati had literally pointed out the most obvious of solutions.

Neville Longbottom.

Neville Longbottom was literally the only plausible answer for tutoring. One, he was in her house and they had the framework for a minor friendship so going up to him and asking wouldn't be all that terrifying or painstaking. Two, he was one of the nicest boys that Evelyn had ever met. From the beginning of their Hogwarts careers, Neville had pretty much become the poster child for loyalty and friendship, despite others not really seeing him as much. From the times Evelyn had been around him during the years, she always found herself immensely enjoying his company. He was shy at first, but once you got past that, the Longbottom boy was sweet and funny. And three (and Evelyn was putting this lightly), he was a fucking _god_ when it came to Herbology.

From their first class back in first year, Neville excelled at Herbology. Frankly, Evelyn was certain that he might actually know more than Sprout. Despite his issues when it came to class like Defense and Potions, Herbology was a place where Neville thrived. He could spit out facts about plants like it was second nature and he knew how to handle plants in class like the back of his hand. Where Neville pulled out high marks effortlessly, Evelyn pulled grades that made Hermione want to keel over in shock. That was partly why Evelyn automatically ruled out having Hermione being her tutor ㅡ that would be far to stressful. But Neville . . . Neville was kind and compassionate. Evelyn could probably ask him the same question eighty times in a row and he would probably sit there patiently trying to help her.

Neville Longbottom would be the perfect tutor.

"Parvati, you're a fucking genius," Evelyn let out moments later, her eyes lighting up as she pushed herself to sit straighter in his seat. "Absolutely brilliant, Neville's perfect."

"From a Herbology grade standpoint, maybe," Lavender cackled lightly from her seat, referring to how the majority of Hogwarts female population didn't exactly find Neville as handsome as the other blokes.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at her housemate. "Oh please, just shut your mouth, Lavender. Neville's a good guy."

"I'm just saying, if you're looking for a good time, Dean would be the obvious answer."

"I'm not looking for a shag, Lavender, I'm looking for someone to help me with my Herbology grade. Merlin's beard, woman, not everything is about boys." Through her sentence, Evelyn pushed herself off the seat, steadied her movement for a brief moment, before heading to the door of the car.

Behind her, Parvati sighed while Lavender was more than likely scowling, considering how loud the page flipping had become. Evelyn paid attention to neither of those things, her limbs seeming to have already decided that she wanted out of that car that instant. She yanked open the door, slipping her body through the small space she had created.

"Ev, where're you going?" Parvati questioned, her dark eyes remaining on her curly haired friend.

Evelyn paused for a moment, thinking it over. She was probably being dramatic, by storming out (Parvati had ruined her dramatic flair though, that bitch). But one last look at a pissed off Lavender Brown had her mind confirming her exit. If there was anything to avoid more than a regular Lavender, it was a mad Lavender. Sure, Evelyn's darkest nightmares were far more terrifying, but she knew not to poke the dragon once it was angered lest one wanted their hair to be hexed into a putrid green color.

Looking at Parvati with the briefest of smiles, Evelyn shrugged. "Might try to find Neville, to just ask him about the tutoring situation now." And then, looking at Lavender, with a sarcastic tone, she added, "Or perhaps I'll just head on over to where Dean is, considering how badly we need to shag. Hell, maybe we'll even get Seamus to join in, just for shits and giggles."

(Frankly, that didn't seem too far off base ㅡ the Weasley twins, Fred and George, had a betting pool going on when Dean and Seamus were going to finally pull their heads out their arses and get together.)

(Evelyn herself had four galleons and two knuts down on their Hogwarts graduation. It would have been more, but had she wanted a butterbeer that day.)

(Point is, you had to ship Dean and Seamus together, it was like the unspoken rule of Gryffindor. And Ravenclaw. And Hufflepuff. And probably Slytherin too, once they got finished listening to that prat Malfoy yell about how his father was going to hear about something or other.)

In the car, Lavender's mouth opened in annoyance, more than likely ready to spew another loud rant about how Evelyn needed to get her attitude in check, just the general thing she had done since the two girls had met. But since Evelyn had already been there, done that, and got the t-shirt, she quickly slid the car's door shut with a rather definitive slam. She smirked and let her curled hair flip over her shoulder.

Too dramatic? Probably (but she needed to fill her drama quota for the day anyways).

And besides, shag Dean? Literally the stupidest idea she had ever heard. She had bigger, Herbology related issues to worry about. Step one, find Neville freaking Longbottom.

* * *

Unfortunately, she couldn't find Neville freaking Longbottom.

After searching for Neville for at least ten minutes through the section that Gryffindors usually occupied as the sort of unspoken rule of the Hogwarts Express, she had been close to giving up. Hell, she had even stumbled into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff territory, but all she had found was one very heated debate on whether milk chocolate was better than dark chocolate (Evelyn had tried to weigh in, because everyone knew it was milk chocolate) and then, one irritable Zacharias Smith (who she had promptly told to remove his head from his ass). Unfortunately, Neville was nowhere to be found. Bloody hell, she just hoped he wasn't going to crash into the Whomping Willow in a flying car like Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had done three years prior.

Instead, she had found Dean and Seamus, which she personally thought was rather hilarious considering her last words to Lavender and Parvati. The Thomas boy had spotted Evelyn making her way through the train's corridor with a very perplexed and borderline frustrated facial expression when he had slid the door open. By now, the three teenagers had all greeted each other and Seamus had even offered Evelyn a handful of droobles (she had still taken them, but had reminded Seamus that he was still a git for eating some of her droobles the last time). A few more niceties had been exchanged before Evelyn had dove into her Herbology-and-Lavender fueled rant.

"She suggested I tutor you?" Dean chuckled when Evelyn had paused, leaning up against the window of the compartment. Seamus was across from him, where as Evelyn had sat close enough to Dean to drape her legs over his long and gangling ones. While Seamus continued to chuckle at the idea of his best friend tutoring anyone on Herbology, "What sort of bullshit is that? The only one good at Herbology is Neville."

"Exactly what I was trying to tell her after Parvati suggested it, but the idiot wouldn't listen," Evelyn muttered as she shrugged, giving a light roll of the eyes. "She seems to think we're taken with each other."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, not this again."

"Oh, yes, this again," Evelyn replied with a similar eye roll. "In Lavender's mind, tutoring leads to the reveal of feelings which would somehow probably lead to the two of us tearing the other's clothes off in the library or something and having a good fuck."

As Dean's eyes went wide and he began doubling over in laughter, from across the compartment Seamus choked on his pumpkin juice. "Fucking hell, Evelyn," the Irish boy spluttered as the drink dribbled down on the shirt.

Again, Evelyn shrugged, but this time there was a bit of mirth in her eyes as she tried to hold back her laughter at the boy's bewildered expression. "Sorry, Seamus. Her words, not mine."

"Y-You could still warn a guy," Seamus groaned as he finished the last of his coughing fit, letting his head loll back against the seat. He shot an exasperated look over at Dean. "Why did I ask her to the ball again?"

"Because if you didn't, you would have ended up like Ron yelling over at Fleur Delacour, probably," Evelyn mused, remembering the frightening shout of Ron yelling across the courtyard the previous year. "And then he completely ruined Hermione's night, but that's only because he's a pigheaded git sometimes ㅡ you just have terrible taste."

Seamus raised a brow ("They've grown back since last time, thank you very much," he had practically screeched at Evelyn when she made the comment earlier). He let his hand reach into his small pile of treats that he had obtained some time before the Bishop girl had shown up before he started to speak again. "I thought you two were ㅡ "

"If you say friends, I'm going to hit you for what will the first of a million times this years," Evelyn muttered, crossing her ankles from where they lay on top of Dean's. "Either way, she thinks that I should fuck Dean, but I'm just trying to get my Herbology grade up. Girl just doesn't open her ears."

Dean rolled his eyes before looking at the girl apologetically. "Yeah, I love you and all, Ev, but I don't want to shag you."

"No offense taken, mate," Evelyn laughed, holding her hands up in a surrender position.

Across from them, Seamus chuckled. "He'd rather shag Ginny anyways."

Dean looked mortified. "Seamus!"

Evelyn merely shrugged, having already been onto the looks that the Thomas boy had been sending the youngest Weasley. "It's okay, Dean. Seamus didn't spill the beans on anything. To be fair, you're just very obvious about the staring every time you're around her." She pondered another moment, before sending a smirk in her friend's direction. Wiggling her eyebrows, she teased, "Although, frankly, I think we all know what Gryffindor would be a better match for you."

If Dean (who seemed to know all about how people shipped him and the Irish bloke across from him) had looked mortified before, he looked like he was about vomit now. Tentatively, without looking at Seamus, he stated, "Evelyn, I swear that I love you, but please shut the hell up before I clock you over the head with my Potions book."

Evelyn let out a peal of giggles as Seamus, who was about as dense as Harry, furrowed his (newly grown in) brow. "What the hell are you two going on about?"

Dean, bless his heart, let out a quick, "Nothing!" at the same time that Evelyn replied with the suggestive, "Oh it's something, Finnigan, my boy."

"That raises more questions than it answered," Seamus mumbled while shaking his head, turning back to his treats.

Evelyn smirked. "Well, it all has to do with how a certain best friend of yours is destined to end up with ㅡ "

Dean, with wide eyes, promptly shoved Evelyn's legs off his own and cut her sentence off. "Shouldn't you be off talking to Neville about him tutoring you? Should probably ask now, you know, instead of waiting," Dean rushed, his facial expression begging the girl not to go on with her original phrase.

The Bishop girl looked at him blankly. "I couldn't fucking find him, that's why I'm sitting with you two."

"I think I saw him with Ginny earlier," Seamus supplied, trying to be helpful.

"Seamus, sweetie, I know you're trying to be helpful but if I couldn't find Neville, what makes you think I'll be able to find Ginny?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm pretty sure I saw Ginny go in a compartment a few down from this one, actually. With that fourth year Ravenclaw. Luna, I think her name is."

Evelyn threw her head back with a groan, before swatting at Dean's arm. "And you let me sit here for like half an hour? Dean, what the hell?"

"Well, you started prattling on about Lavender, Seamus and I couldn't very well shove you back in the corridor to talk to yourself, Bishop."

"You're lucky I like you, Thomas," Evelyn muttered, before getting to her feet once again in search of Neville freaking Longbottom. She smiled at the two boys, tossing a quick wave before uttering a quick, "Seamus you should definitely ask Dean all about how wants to ㅡ "

"Goodbye, Evelyn!" Dean crowed, practically pushing the girl out the door and into the corridor, the door to the compartment sliding to shut her out.

Evelyn stood there for a moment longer before giggling loudly. Dean was being over dramatic, obviously him and Seamus would be getting together at some point in the future (and she wasn't just saying that because she had galleons resting on a bet). He might as well just get it over with now (or, preferably for the sake of the galleons, graduation). Tucking another few curls behind her ears, the Bishop girl turned on the heel of her shoe, headed off once again to find Neville Longbottom.

Thankfully for the Bishop girl, Dean and Seamus hadn't been wrong when they had told her that Neville had gone off somewhere with Ginny Weasley. She found them a few compartments down along with Harry Potter, and she sighed instantly, knowing she would have found him a lot easier if she had never went in with Dean and Seamus. She had passed the compartment at first, but quickly backtracked when she realized that Ginny's signature ginger hair had passed her peripheral. Taking a quick look through the window, she saw Neville sat next to Harry, the former who had just dug out a small, rather ugly plant from his schoolbag and the latter looking rather confused by said plant. Across from them sat Ginny and then Luna Lovegood, a small blonde Ravenclaw who seemed to divvy up her attention between the magazine in her hands and what Neville was doing.

Evelyn smiled, watching how Neville was probably happily describing his plant to the group. When it came to Herbology, Neville could talk for hours on end, another reason the Bishop girl knew he was the best for the job; anyone who could talk about various plants for that long had to know just about everything. She took a few moments, trying to work up her courage to go in there and ask Neville to tutor her.

"Come on, Bishop, you little bitch, it's just Neville," she muttered to herself, pushing open the door.

At first, the door slid open just enough for Evelyn to hear Harry ask, rather confused and awkwardly, "Does it — er — do anything?"

"Loads of stuff!" Neville cried out. Turning to his bag again, Neville promptly plopped his frog, Trevor, into Harry's lap. "It's got an amazing defensive mechanism! Hold Trevor for me."

By then, the door had opened just enough for Evelyn to be seen by the group, but the door opening only seemed to catch the attention of the Weasley girl. She turned her head, only for her face to break out into a smile upon seeing the girl stood in the door. Evelyn waved briefly, before turning to raise an eyebrow at what the Longbottom boy was doing. He hadn't even noticed her arrival, too caught up in holding up the plant up a little more to get a better look at it. He held a quill in his free hand and seemed to be inspecting the plant's surface.

Still very confused, Evelyn decided to make herself known."Neville, what are you doing with that — "

She was cut off when, without another moment's notice, Neville promptly stabbed the plant with the pointed end of the quill. The sound of her voice only got to him the second the tip touched plant and the next few seconds played out like a horror movie in front of his. Because in that moment, the plant exploded from every bulb and boil on the plant, creating a shower of dark green slime.

It went almost everywhere, from the windows and door of the compartment, to the ceiling and floor, and most definitely, the kids within it. Ginny managed to cover her face and the slime only covered her hair and Luna's face was guarded by her magazine. However, Harry, Evelyn, and Neville hadn't been so lucky, with every inch of their faces from the hairline down covered in the stinking green liquid. Evelyn had let out a shriek when it hit her, blanching immediately on the spot.

It was that screech that seemed to make Neville realize that he had, in fact, covered Evelyn Bishop with Stinsksap.

 _Oh Godric, no,_ he thought miserably as he stared over at her in horror.

A few moments passed with each of the teenagers trying to find the proper reaction the moment. And then, while wiping the slime away from her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, Evelyn was the first to utter a response. "Well, I have to say I definitely wasn't expecting that when I walked in," the Bishop girl said, letting out a dry laugh.

Neville, who was still in the midst of willing this to be a dream that he could wake up from in a few moments, gulped heavily before trying to shake the Stinksap from his eyes. Timidly, with a shuddered gasp to his tone, let out, "S-Sorry. I haven't tried that before . . . I didn't realize it would be quite so — um, don't worry though, Stinksap's not poisonous."

"Wouldn't be the first time a plant tried to off me," the girl in the doorway muttered in annoyance as Harry seemed to cough up a mouthful of the disgusting liquid, and her words seemed to cause Neville's brow to furrow.

Not bothering to elaborate, she shook her head at the boy. And while Evelyn and the rest of the group were still in the midst of sloughing the green slime off their faces, another person seemed to present themselves beside the Bishop girl. The slime covered girl in the doorway squinted through the Stinksap that seemed to practically drip down from her eyelashes to recognize the form of Ravenclaw sixth year Cho Chang.

Cho had a small smile on her face until she noticed the discord that had struck the second Neville had jammed his quill into the plant. Her eyes flitted around the compartment and Harry, who was still trying to reign Trevor in, looked like he would rather be anywhere but there in that moment.

"Oh . . . hello, Harry," Cho mumbled nervously, now visibly forcing her polite smile. To be honest, Evelyn didn't blame her, the entire bunch of them looked like a giant mess. "Um, bad time?"

Harry wiped his glasses free of slime and his already distressed look intensified by twenty. If she wasn't covered with the same amount of slime, Evelyn might have laughed at his expression. But as of right now, she just felt bad for the kid. This was just like last year with the pumpkin juice that basically fell out of his mouth all over again.

Harry, bless his heart, still managed to find his voice, despite how embarrassed he was in that moment. "Oh. Hi."

 _Smooth Potter,_ Evelyn thought to herself as she mentally face palmed.

Cho grimaced. Her hands wrung together in front of her awkwardly as she rocked back on her heels a bit. "Um, well . . . just thought I'd say hello," she mumbled lightly, looking like she was experiencing secondhand embarrassment for the group. Normally, Evelyn would have rolled her eyes at the Quidditch player's look of pity, but y'know, she was covered in slime. Cho was quite flushed, a large blush smattering her cheeks by the time she let out a timid "Bye then." 

And then, as quickly as she had entered, she departed.

Harry leaned back against the seat he was in, a small groan slipping out of his mouth, a few drips of Stinksap plopping off his face and into his lap. Under normal circumstances, Evelyn probably would have told Harry to get over the fact that the girl he had had a crush on for a bit had seen him covered in Stinksap. But, this time, she didn't. Because, you know, so was she.

Across from Harry, Ginny slipped her wand out of the pocket of her jeans. She gave the group a shrug, followed by a determined expression. "Never mind that. Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify!" With a simple flick of her wrist, the spell worked seemingly instantly, the green slime instantly vanishing from the compartment.

Evelyn let out a breath of relief. She nodded at Ginny with a thankful smile. "All right, don't tell the twins, but you're officially my favorite Weasley, I swear."

Ginny grinned.

Next to Harry, Neville, who was frowning slightly down at his plant, muttered another quick "Sorry," to the group around him.

"Do I even want to know what that is?" Evelyn asked. She pushed a few of them behind her ear, crossing her arms as she looked at Neville curiously. She was the furthest thing from mad, just very confused as to why that plant had exploded with such a disgusting substance. But then again, considering she had been bitten by not one, but two plants, this probably shouldn't have fazed her at all.

"Um, it's called Mimbulus mimbletonia," Neville mumbled quietly, a light blush still creeping up his neck to his cheeks. He moved his arm behind his neck to rub it awkwardly as he answered the girl.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia?" Evelyn questioned, wondering whether it was having never heard of it or just her general lack of know how when it came to Herbology that was the reason for her drawing a complete blank at the name. "Did we learn about that in Herbology?"

By this time, it seemed to only be Evelyn and Neville that were focused on conversation. Ginny was busying herself with plaiting her long hair, Luna Lovegood was reading a magazine that was upside down, and Harry looked like he wanted to melt down into a puddle and seep through the floor to never be seen again. But Neville, despite the complete and utter embarrassment that was flooding through him from not only covering his friends, but Evelyn Bishop in Stinksap, seemed to be engaging more in the conversation now that Evelyn had posed her question.

He shook his head. "Not yet. It's really, really rare. I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even," he supplied, his tone growing a little more confident as he continued to speak about the plant. "My great-uncle Algie got it for me for my birthday, in Assyria. I'm going to show Professor Sprout and maybe even see if I can breed from it." Neville was beaming like the sun at that point, turning the little pot holding the rather stunted plant, meaning to show Evelyn the different sides of it.

(Later, Neville would probably end up muttering how stupid of a choice that was, considering there was probably no universe where Evelyn Bishop actually cared to see a plant.)

Throughout his miniature explanation, Evelyn had started fondly smiling, finding it slightly adorable how deep Neville's infatuation with plants went. But at the sound of Professor Sprout's name, Evelyn's eyes lit up. Neville initially took this as a sign of complete and utter interest and was just about to delve into more technical plant knowledge before the Bishop girl cut him off completely.

"Bloody hell, you sure know a lot about plants," she mused, before cocking her head towards the corridor. "Mind if I speak to you in private about something? It'll only take a moment, I swear."

Neville's eyes widened quite some bit and across from him Ginny snickered lightly at his expression. "You want to talk to me? In private?

With only a slightly furrowed brow, the girl nodded. "Yes? I promise, it'll be really quick and you can come back here right after."

Neville, still confused on why the pretty girl in the doorway had come here to talk to him and not Harry or Ginny, glanced over at the Potter boy for some sort of answer. Harry was still trying to keep Trevor gripped in his hand and merely shrugged at the other boy. Ginny was rolling her eyes and then, not so subtly, craned her head in Evelyn's direction as if to say _just go you dumbass._

Finally, Neville clambered to his feet, albeit fairly awkwardly. Evelyn beamed at him and stepped out into the corridor, Neville right behind her. Once the two were out, Neville shut the door to the compartment, trying to ignore the smug smirk that Ginny had sent his direction. Last thing he needed was to talk to Evelyn with everyone's theories running around his mind.

You see, the thing was that everyone and their mother seemed to be convinced that Neville was a _teensy_ bit in love with the girl named Evelyn Bishop. Which wasn't true in the slightest. She was incredible, sure, that much he knew after years of classes with her. She was nice and funny and seemed to have a heart of gold despite her tendency to blow things way out of proportions with enough drama to constitute for the plot line of a shitty movie. But as far as Neville's feelings went, there was nothing. The two were barely friends, the only real connection he had to her being the fact that she was close to Dean and Seamus (both of which who seemed convinced that the two would end up together). Okay so, sure, maybe Neville had a tendency to stare at her a moment too long or maybe he enjoyed the sound of her laugh sounded a tad too mellifluous to his ears, but he wasn't in love with her. He didn't even have a crush on her.

("Sure," Seamus would say to him when he stated that, which usually resulted in Neville tossing a book across the room at the Irishman before ultimately realizing his aim was way too off course.)

He didn't like Evelyn Bishop. She was just a girl. Albeit a girl who was currently confusing him by her need to speak to him and maybe freaking him out a little by the way she was silently beaming at him.

Another silent moment passed, before Neville peered down at her awkwardly. Rubbing his arm, he asked, "Um, w-what did you want to talk about?" 

Evelyn, with an aura of nervousness that Neville couldn't even comprehend her having, wrung her hands together, smiling slightly at him. She inhaled and then exhaled sharply, then repeated the process again, before smoothing her hands across the fabric of her shirt. "Okay, well . . . you can absolutely say no if you want, I'm not trying to pressure you into anything I just needed to ask."

Neville stared at her, honestly expecting that after her last sentence, there would be more to follow. There was not. So instead, he furrowed his brow at her, watching the small girl stare back at him expectantly. "I'm a bit lost on what you want to ask me, Evelyn," Neville remarked, laughing a little bit.

"It's just that," Evelyn started a moment later, her hand reaching up to push more of her hair away from her face. Neville briefly wondered why she never wore her hair up, her face was consistently hidden by the curls and he wondered if she knew what sort of beauty she was covering. (He then mentally kicked himself and then locked that thought away in a vault accurately labeled _Don't Tell Dean and Seamus You Thought That_ ). Frowning a bit, Evelyn carried on with her words. "I'm having some issues right now. And well, literally everyone knows how you feel about the subject and I know that obviously when I realized that, I knew it had to be you."

At the word you, Evelyn was practically beaming up at him, a wonder filled expression filtering through her eyes. And it was at her words, that Neville found himself completely and utterly lost. He had absolutely no clue what she was going on about, seeing as she hadn't exactly defined the situation clearly. She said she was having issues and somehow he was the solution. How in the name of Merlin's beard was he, Neville Longbottom, the solution to anything?

 _Oh Godric._ Her words were that everyone knew how he felt about the subject. That couldn't ruddy well mean what he thought it meant? Had someone told her about their ridiculous theories about his supposed crush on her? Was she thinking that he liked her? And if so, what the hell did that having anything to do with her helping him?

By that time, with various scenarios playing out in his head (mainly centered around his inevitable humiliation), he managed to blush while squeaking out, "What?"

Evelyn stared at him oddly, before shrugging. Elaborating on her previous statement, she said, "I mean, you're just bloody fantastic and you're also not boring and you're such a nice guy and I figured if there was anyone I'd want to spend time outside of class with, it'd be you. And it'd mean a whole lot to me, if you said yes. If you say no, I completely understand but Dean and Seamus think you won't because they know how you get about this."

Dean and Seamus. Seamus and Dean. Oh no, oh no. If there was to be anyone who would spill the beans about the theory of Neville liking Evelyn, it would be his dorm mates. While between the two, Dean could probably keep his mouth shut, once Seamus knew about something, your secrecy was a lost cause. And by that point, Dean would probably stop caring about trust and just go along with what Seamus was doing for shits and giggles.

They told Evelyn. That was literally the only conclusion he could come to in that moment. They told her that he had a crush on her. Which he didn't. But that didn't matter to Seamus and Dean. And now, Evelyn Which is why, in that moment, Neville managed to let a few words escape his mouth in a rush. "Whatever Dean and Seamus told you is a lie."

Evelyn looked at him strangely. "It's a lie that you love Herbology?"

Wait, _what?_

"H-Herbology?" Neville exclaimed, just short of crying out. Evelyn nodded at him, squinting her eyes in confusion. Okay, Herbology definitely didn't factor into his inevitable humiliation. Which is why, while shaking his head slightly, he asked, "Wait, I'm sorry I think I'm missing something, what are you talking about?"

Evelyn scoffed. "What are _you_ talking about?"

Neville didn't have an answer for that. "Um, well, I asked first."

An eye roll, followed by a snicker. And then, in a serious tone, "I'm talking about how I need a Herbology tutor because if I don't manage to learn anything then I'm screwed for O.W.L.s and which will probably lead to me failing all my other courses and then I won't be able to advance to N.E.W.T. levels in any subject. And if that happens, I'll be without a career which means no money which means no place to live and one day you'll see me living in a cardboard box on a sidewalk in London probably dying of the plague."

Furrowing his brow at the word plague, Neville asked, "Aren't your chances of catching the plague slim to none?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes (again), shrugging. "Well, that's what Parvati said, but you never know and goddammit I'm too young to die."

"I think Parvati's right, Evelyn. Herbology won't cause you to get the plague," Neville replied with a slight chuckle. Sometimes she was a tad too dramatic (although it was sort of adorable — wait, no, he wasn't finishing that thought. Nope, not now, not ever).

Another eye roll, before the girl deadpanned, "Well I very well can't tell her that, Longbottom."

He smiled in humor at her before furrowing his brow lightly. "So, um, you have trouble with Herbology?"

With an expression that looked a tad shameful, she nodded. "To the point where I'd rather fling myself out a window then ever take another Herbology exam again in my life. I'm absolute shit at it and if that horribleness crosses over into my O.W.L., I'm screwed."

"If you had problems with it before, why didn't you just ask me sooner?" When Evelyn stared at him blankly, he continued, with a small smile, "I would've helped you ."

An arm reach up to rub the other lightly. She shrugged, looking rather small in that moment. She chewed her lip for a brief second before sighing. "I don't know, I guess I just figured that I was a lost cause, you know? But now this whole exam season thing has gotten to me and everyone seems to think you're my only hope."

There was a sort of desperation in her tone and it was simply that which told Neville that Evelyn was being sincere. She was borderline failing Herbology and she needed help. Help he could give her — Herbology help which he would have to make that abundantly clear to everyone later. 

(Although, he would probably try to leave out the fact of his minor excitement that she asked _him,_ out of all people, and that it had made his stomach flip a few times. That probably wouldn't help the whole "I don't like Evelyn case" that he had been making for almost two years now.)

Well, it wasn't like he really had any other things that he could be doing instead of tutoring. And he loved Herbology enough to talk about plants after class that tutoring her wouldn't bore him (and plus, there was also the way that she stared hopefully up at him that made him cave almost instantly). Chewing his lip for a brief moment, Neville smiled softly at the girl before him. "All right. I'll do it."

Her eyes went wide, an instant smile etching across her lips. "Are you serious?" she asked excitedly, making sure she had heard him right

"I'll tutor you," he confirmed, his cheeks tinged a light pink.

"Neville, you're absolutely wonderful!" Evelyn cried with joy, leaping forward to allow her arms to wrap around his neck.

Neville practically froze as she hugged him, giggling slightly as she did so. He could only bring himself to slowly return the hug in the most awkward and strangest of manners because, _holy hippogriff_ , Evelyn Bishop was hugging him. It wasn't like he had a crush on her or anything (seriously, he just thought she was nice . . . and pretty . . . and she tended to smell like vanilla, which was always pleasant) but good Godric, he never pictured any situation in which the girl would willingly hug him. They were barely friends and he wasn't really sure how him agreeing to tutor her really warranted a big hug, but here they were. 

She was practically standing on the very tips of her toes due to their height difference, but Neville was almost astounded how the force of her small body almost caused him to fall over. Evelyn Bishop was hugging him. He was going to be spending days tutoring Evelyn Bishop.

Godric, things only went right for Neville Longbottom every once in a blue moon. And apparently there was one looming over him in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mimbulus Mimbletonia: A rare, magical plant known for its defensive mechanism of squirting Stinsksap.


	2. Carrion Flowers

The overwhelming fear that had encompassed Evelyn for the majority of her train ride had dissipated by the time the train reached Hogsmeade Station.

With Neville's promise to help her with her Herbology studies, there was a new sense of hope that she wouldn't fail the class (and subsequently wouldn't fail her O.W.L.'s and would in fact _not_ fail her other classes, she _would_ be able to advance to N.E.W.T. levels in the other subjects, and she _wouldn't_ be forced to live without a career or home in a cold, damp cardboard box on a sidewalk in London until she was struck with the plague leaving her to die. Frankly, this seemed like a win on her part). She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Neville was her only hope at gaining a decent score on her exams. Like everyone knew, Neville was a literal Herbology god. Bloody hell, he might have known more than Sprout herself. Knowing that Neville was willing to help her seemed to quell any fears she had when the train had started moving.

She was now seemingly back to her normal, bubbly self, practically bouncing off the train as she regrouped with Seamus and Dean on the platform. Only the usual, every year twinges of worry filled her stomach, but as she glanced across the gathering of students now dressed in their school robes over at where Neville stood with Harry and Ginny, she felt confident. Her eyes may have stared just a little too long, causing the Longbottom boy to glance over to where she stood. As if it was reflex for him, his cheeks burned instantly. Biting her lip, Evelyn laughed and gave a little wave. His eyes went wide for a brief moment, before he fumbled with his pot of Mimbulus mimbletonia in order to wave back.

"Wavin' at ya new boyfriend, are ya?" an Irish lilt chuckled from beside her, causing Evelyn to divert her gaze from Neville back to the friend at her side. Witnessing the smug expression on Seamus's face and seeing the way he elbowed Dean's side in jest made her roll her eyes, letting her hand dart out to whack her wand off the top of his skull. He jumped back instantly, rubbing his temple in annoyance as Dean broke out into peals of laughter. "Fuck, Ev."

The girl shrugged, giving a dirty look to the boy that she (for reasons unbeknownst to herself) called one of her best friends. "Shut your trap, Finnigan. He's only helping me with Herbology. Lucky he even agreed in the first place."

Dean cut off his laughter rather quickly and looked down at her, raising a brow. "Oh, come off it, Ev. Everyone and their mum knows that there's no way in hell that Neville would ever say no to _you_."

Evelyn, who was apparently not included within the spectrum of everyone and their mother, pursed her lips as she stared up at her friend. "Do I even _want_ to know what you're talking about?"

"Oh come on, ya can't be the only one that doesn't know," Seamus muttered beside her. "Longbottom's obsessed with you."

Evelyn bristled. And then she shook her head. "He is not."

"Keep telling yourself that, Ev," Seamus snickered, leading himself to receive yet another wand hit to the head. He groaned, rubbing the bit of skull he was certain she was going to fracture one day. "Yer a git, ya know that?"

Evelyn grinned brightly. "Thanks for the compliment, Seamus!"

Dean rolled his eyes at his two friends. "Come on, we better find a carriage before we're stuck riding with Malfoy or someone."

The Bishop girl wrinkled her nose in disgust before she latched her arms through both Seamus and Dean's, pulling them forward. They started heading towards the line of self driven carriages ㅡ magic never ceased to amaze Ev, even if her mum was a witch ㅡ where students were boarding in groups of six. There's a bit of a skip in her step and the bright grin returned to her face as she suggested, "Maybe we could find one with Neville? Or maybe Harry if he's got Ron and Hermione with him ㅡ "

"Fat chance I'm sitting with Potter," Seamus muttered under his breath, causing Evelyn to halt in her tracks. Not once had she ever heard him refer to Harry as _Potter_ , especially with not such a sour tone. Stopping caused her to yank both of her friends back and she had to stop herself from snickering when Dean (who was a solid foot taller than Evelyn herself) nearly tripped due to it.

Evelyn let go of both of their arms, whirling around to glance at the Finnigan boy. "Did something happen between you Harry? Did he eat your secret stash of chocolate? Lavender does that to me all the time and I know it can be really disheartening but you have to learn to let go of the anger. And when you let go of the anger, you switch to revenge and disguise something really gross as chocolate so he'll never eat it again . . . not that I've tried that or anything."

Dean snorted while Seamus looked at Evelyn like she had seven heads. "He didn't eat my chocolate. And stop trying to poison Lavender."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Seamus, I'm not gonna kill her. Just severely screw up her taste buds for a week or so until she learns not to touch food from my fucking trunk. But that's not the point ㅡ why's Harry got your panties in a twist?"

"Oh, c'mon, Ev. I know your mam's a witch just like mine, you get the Prophet in the mail don't ya?" Seamus snapped. There was annoyance glimmering in his eyes.

Evelyn swallowed thickly. This was about last year, then. About the Triwizard Tournament. Evelyn could almost remember the bitter taste that had filled her mouth when Harry had returned from the maze, Triwizard Cup tucked between him and Cedric Diggory. Cedric Diggory, who had somehow lost his life in the maze. And then, she could remember the way that, days after, Professor Dumbledore had revealed what had actually happened in that maze. Cedric Diggory hadn't died the way the Ministry wanted the story to be told, didn't die by his own moronic mistake. No, Cedric Diggory had been murdered.

By none other than You-Know-Who himself.

It had been the biggest news all summer, what with Hogwarts headmaster and the wizarding world's most famous teenager sticking strongly and never wavering from the story that the Dark Lord was back. He was back and Cedric Diggory would not be the first to stray across his path and lose their life because of it. The Ministry and The Daily Prophet were trying to fight against that story so hard all summer long, trying to reassure the people that no harm would come to anyone because the Dark Lord wasn't back ㅡ couldn't be back. And with that, everyone was left to their own devices, left to pick their own sides. It was clear to see who Mrs. Finnigan was siding with, then.

"Yeah, we get the Prophet. I take it your mum doesn't believe Harry or Dumbledore?" Evelyn asked gently. Next to her, Dean just looked flat out uncomfortable. Around them, students of all houses bustle around the small cluster they stand in, knocking the three out of the way seeing as they've pretty much stopped trying to get a carriage for the moment.

"Does yours?"

Evelyn nodded. "She's always figured that You-Know-Who wasn't done with us, mate. Granted, she's been feeding into a lot of conspiracy theories lately, but that's mostly linked to muggle things because she hears about it on the telly Dad bought for the house. Either way, she doesn't think they're lying about how Cedric died. Well, that, and she always says she trusts Fudge about as far as she can throw him."

"So she doesn't think it's at all suspicious that Dumbledore got sacked from the Wizengamot or the International ㅡ "

Evelyn cut him off before he could finish. "Again, she doesn't trust the Ministry, never has. If he got sacked then it really only further proves her point. And besides, even if she thought that Dumbledore might be losing it, she still would believe Harry. He's got no reason to lie and the way that the Prophet is painting him is ridiculous. I mean, they're acting like he's trying to stay in the limelight. Come off it! He's only known round the would because his parents were fucking murdered, I don't think he wants to be known at all half the time."

"Yeah, well try telling that to me mam, she didn't want me coming back here because of it! I had to argue with her for weeks before she would even consider taking me to Diagon Alley to get me books for the term," Seamus whispered harshly. "So don't mind me for not wanting to sit with him."

Evelyn felt her jaw pop open in shock. "She wasn't going to let you come back? Seriously?"

"She was ready to owl McGonagall and everything," Seamus scoffed in annoyance, letting his arms fold across his chest.

Shit. Apparently people were taking this whole _You-Know-Who is back versus Cedric died of his own accord_ thing a lot harder and more personally than Evelyn had assumed. Granted, she didn't pay much attention to wizarding news during the summers, preferring to spends the few months focused on catching up on the muggle world and what she had missed during her schooling. And she certainly hadn't assumed that people would seriously believe anything that the Prophet was spewing. Dumbledore was one of the most esteemed wizards in the U.K. and suddenly people were taking Fudge's word over his? Fudge, who would probably do anything to protect his own ass before his people? If there was one thing that Evelyn had learned from the muggle world it was that most politicians only cared about themselves and with the way her mum talked about Cornelius Fudge, Evelyn was sure that was a trait that transferred over into the magical world.

Evelyn gave a glance to Dean, asking, "How did your parents react to the news?"

Dean laughed, giving the Bishop girl a look of disbelief. "My parents are muggles, mate. They had no reason to freak out because they don't know about no deaths at Hogwarts. I'd be out of mind to tell them that ㅡ heck, if they even knew about that bloke who escaped Azkaban two years back, I would have been back in muggle school before I could blink."

The curly haired girl thought about this for a moment, before she shrugged. "True. But Seamus, you can't take out your annoyance on Harry just because you're mad at your mum and are shit at expressing your emotions. S'not fair to him."

"I am _not_ shit at expressing my emotions!" Seamus cried out, cheeks flaring red in annoyance. Evelyn glanced up at Dean who was snorting at Seamus. Evelyn nodded at him before turning back to her other friend, giving the Irish boy a pointed look as if to say _you're wrong but alright._ Seamus rolled his eyes. "You both suck, you know that? And how the hell are we supposed to just take everything Potter says as the truth? I mean, what _really_ happened that night in the maze? Does anyone actually know?"

"I don't think we ever truly will," Evelyn replied after a moment, grimacing. She glanced up at the sky before looking back down, just in time to see Harry Potter climb into a carriage along with his friends. He looked like shit, to be honest, and Evelyn was certain it was a side effect from everything he'd been through since June. The girl glanced back at her friends. "But whatever it was, I don't know if it's going to entirely end with that."

" . . . That wasn't morbidly ominous at all."

"Dean's right, Ev. Bloody hell, you're never going to land Neville if you keep saying creepy shit like ㅡ OW!"

"Oopsies!"

* * *

To say that Neville was having a hard time paying attention might just have been the understatement of the century. The school had finally settled into the Great Hall, minus the first years who were currently stationed outside with Professor McGonagall for the yearly sorting. People around him were buzzing with conversation, greeting friends and housemates that they hadn't seen in months. To his left, Ginny was prattling on with one of her fellow fourth year students about something that had happened over the summer, a large grin on her freckled face. To his left, Seamus was sulking, muttering to Dean about something or other. And then. there in the middle, was Neville who was more frazzled than he had ever been in his life. Okay, maybe _that_ was an overstatement, but he definitely was having a hard time paying attention.

The reason for his distracted tendencies was none other than one Evelyn Bishop, who currently sat a good ways away from Neville, sandwiched in between Katie Bell and the Weasley twins. The group was chattering on about the upcoming Quidditch season, Evelyn's grin overly enthusiastic. She didn't play for Gryffindor ㅡ something about the training sessions conflicting with something in her personal day-to-day life ㅡ but she was an avid fan of the sport and Neville could distinctly remember her throwing a fit last year over the annual Inter-House Quidditch Cup hadn't taken place on account of the Tournament. 

(As Evelyn had so aptly put it last year: "There's no fucking point to watching Harry try and get a fucking egg away from a dragon! There's no entertainment value in that! I want to watch that bitch try and catch a goddamned snitch with his mouth again, fuck that golden egg!")

(Fred and George were certain that Hogwarts withholding a Quidditch season from Evelyn made her more vicious and deadly than the dragon that almost ate Harry.)

(Honestly, they were probably onto something.)

Neville sighed somewhat happily and propped himself up against the table, resting his head on his elbow. His eyes lingered on Evelyn, who laughed loudly at something one of the twins were miming towards the Slytherin table. Her eyes were alight with happiness, something Neville thought was undoubtedly a great look for her ㅡ just pure happiness. The same kind of happiness she had worn when he had promised to tutor her this year. God, she had been so happy because of _him._ He was certain he could burst.

"Keep starin' at her and she'll know you're in love with her, mate," Seamus interjected, breaking Neville from his thoughts. The boy jumped in his seat, his arm darting out from under his head and his head almost smacking off of the Gryffindor table. Seamus let out a low chuckle at that, gaining himself a glare from Neville.

"I'm not in love with her," Neville retorted, jabbing his elbow in the Irish boy's ribs. Glancing over at Evelyn to make sure that she hadn't heard him, he added, "And keep your voice down. It's bad enough half of our year thinks I have a crush on her."

"Okay, it's not _just_ our year," Seamus pointed out. And then, giving Neville a look, he deadpanned, "And they think that because you do have a crush on her."

"No I don't!" the Longbottom boy groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation.

"Yes, you do."

"Shut up."

"That wasn't a no," Seamus interjected. "Going to tell her ya love her then, mate?"

Neville groaned. "I don't love her, Seamus. Or like her. No matter how much you and Dean seem to think that I do."

"We think you do because you do," the boy deadpanned.

"But I don't!" he nearly shouted, a burning heat crawling up the back of his neck.

Seamus gave him a look. "Then how do you reckon I've caught you staring at her for the past ten minutes?"

Neville blanched. And then blushed. He glowered at Seamus, feeling every bit as awkward as he normally did whenever his supposed _crush_ on Evelyn Bishop was brought up. He didn't like her, not like that. Truly he didn't. He couldn't. For one, she was leaps and bounds out of his league, or at least that's what the whispers around the castle told him any time he caught people gossiping over him and Ev. She was pretty and witty and charming and he was just . . . Neville. And besides that, she was his friend, a _good_ friend. He wouldn't ruin that for anything in the world. 

"I just . . . " he started, trailing off as he tried to find some, _any_ excuse to feed Seamus to get the Irish boy off of his case. Neville spat out the first thing that came to his mind. "She came to me for help. Me, Neville Longbottom." Okay, _that_ definitely didn't help his case.

Seamus snorted. "Blimey, mate, pull yourself together. Yer acting like she bloody proposed to ya."

Neville groaned. "Oh, shut up, Seamus."

Down the table, Evelyn Bishop was too enraptured in her conversation with the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet to notice the fact that her best friend and her friend slash soon to be tutor were discussing her. The curly haired girl giggled at something one of her older friends mentioned about a past Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Honestly, Evelyn was going to be crushed when the lot of them ㅡ sans Katie ㅡ graduated at the end of the year. Between Angelina and Alicia being goddesses on brooms and the Weasley twins pranks and, _dear_ _God_ , Lee Jordan's commentary on games, Hogwarts would be a massively dull institution. Y'know, if you ignored the fact that she'd still be learning _fucking magic._

"You know, you'd think that you'd have tried out for the team by now with how much you love Quidditch," Katie commented with a laugh, giving a nudge to Evelyn's rib cage in jest. Up at the front of the Great Hall, the Sorting hat was set down onto it's usual stool, by McGonagall and began to go off on it's usual yearly tangent.

Evelyn snorted. Whispering, she added, "Me on a broom is equivalent to a niffler in a jewelry shop ㅡ absolutely no grace whatsoever."

"I reckon you'd be able to get a good hand on the snitch pretty fast if you were a niffler, though," Lee chimed in, grinning. "Or at least you'd be majorly determined."

"Probably find a good way to piss of Filch as a niffler too," Fred mentioned, before it seemed like a light lit up in his eyes. He gave a sideways glance towards his brother. "Say Gred, I bet Hagrid might have a few nifflers lying around somewhere. Are you ㅡ "

"Thinking the same thing as you are? I think I am, Forge," George replied, an equally large grin on his face.

Angelina, who was going to be captaining the Gryffindor team for the first time that year, sighed. "If the two of you get in so much trouble that it disrupts practices and games, I'll have both of your heads."

While both of the twins sent her shit eating grins, Evelyn giggled. "Careful there, Angie," she teased. "Keep going down this path and you'll end up being just as obsessive as Wood."

Angelina glared at her, for both the comment and the nickname, but it didn't matter. For within seconds, Evelyn's attention was soon distracted to elsewhere. Up at the front of the hall was the Hat, getting weird looks from all four house tables, as well as the professor's table and the hoard of frightened first years. It was Hogwarts tradition that the manky old hat gave an opening speech, a Sorting Hat song of sorts. It changed nearly every year, from Evelyn had noticed, but the general idea of it always stayed the same. The four founders each had traits they preferred, they each hailed from different areas, Gryffindor whipped the hat off his head and gave it a job, blah blah blah.

But this year, for whatever reason, the Hat seemed to be branching out. Wildly branching out. Evelyn's brow furrowed as she began listening to the tail end of the song, the lot of her friends also garnering perplexed looks as they realized where her mind had drifted off to. In short, the Sorting Hat's newest rendition of his song was, in a word, strange.

_But this year, I'll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether sorting_

_May not bring the end I fear_

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within._

_I have told you, I have warned you . . ._

_Let the Sorting now begin._

The song ended and McGonagall gave the Hat a weird, critical look, before shaking her head and flourishing the scroll of first year names from her robes. But even as she began listing out the first student to be sorted ㅡ a freaked out kid named Euan Abercrombie ㅡ the students already sat down at their house's tables began murmuring amongst one another, trying to figure out what in the actual _fuck_ they had just endured thanks to the Sorting Hat.

"What d'you think it meant by _external deadly foes_?" Katie muttered to the group of friends.

"I think we all know who it means, Katie," Alicia whispered back.

Lee raised a brow. "So because the Hat sorts us into four houses, it's going to weaken us enough for . . . that _guy_ to tear us apart?"

No one replied to him. They all knew who he meant, or rather You Know Who he meant if you wanted to be punny. Evelyn sure didn't, not now at least. It was no secret that the Dark Lord was most definitely the external foe that they should all be wary of. Granted, Evelyn didn't know exactly what the Sorting Hat meant or how to answer Lee's question. Truly, Sorting on the face of it didn't seem like _such_ a terrible idea. Sure, the house rivalries, especially that of Gryffindor and Slytherin, had seemed to heat up a bit more over the course of the past few years than it needed to, but it's not like there weren't Inter-House friendships or relationships. Sorting didn't seem like it would weaken Hogwarts enough to fall victim to . . . _him._

But the thing was, they sort of already had. The second that Cedric Diggory fell dead to the ground, it signaled that Hogwarts was weak, vulnerable even. It was why the Prophet was all over the scandal all summer, why Fudge had tried to backtrack over everything Dumbledore had said to the students last year to save the wizarding world some face, and why mums like Mrs. Finnigan had almost not sent their students back to school this year. If the Dark Lord was powerful enough to disrupt the World Cup with his mark and powerful enough to slip into the inner workings of the Tournament long enough to end Cedric's life, Hogwarts was weakened. The Dark Lord was back, regardless of what anyone said. Evelyn believed Harry and Dumbledore and anyone else who spouted the truth of seeing Death Eaters at the Cup or the Dark Mark lighting up the sky.

It was like being handed a bouquet of carrion flowers, a true symbol of death. A sign of impending doom, or as the Hat put it, peril. Cedric's death was a symbol for the beginning of an end, a sign that they needed to band together and fight back. Whether it would be now or a week later or three years from now or a millennia away, the entirety of Hogwarts and the wizarding word had to stick together. So perhaps that's what the Hat meant. Because like Evelyn mentioned before, the house rivalries had begun dividing them more than they would ever admit. And she knew that out in the real world, it was mostly the same. People not working together, people treating each other differently, people unwilling to help anyone but themselves.

As the sorting continued and Evelyn's friends began to chatter amongst themselves, occasionally clapping enthusiastically when the lion house gained a new member, the brunette could feel a lump growing in her throat. Her eyes were set on the Hat, wondering the true meaning of it's song. She had never paid attention to it's songs before, but never before had it given the students and staff something like _this._ Her eyes began flitting around, seeing if anyone was at confused or disturbed as she was. Just as expected, she noticed Harry with concern storming in his green eyes. He caught her eye. They shared a worried look. He gave her a solemn nod. She gave him one back. It was a short exchange, one that lasted barely a second and it gave the Bishop girl little comfort. But at least she knew that she wasn't alone.

And then, her eyes landed on something she thought she'd never, _ever_ see in her fifteen years. Sat at the professor's table, in a seat that thus far had been occupied by stuttering Quirrell, ludicrous Lockhart, lovely Lupin, and a fake Mad-Eye Moody was a small, toad faced woman decked out entirely in pink. Evelyn had never laid eyes on this woman before, but she had also had a very talkative, descriptive aunt on her mother's side who worked at the Ministry. Auntie Bridget was a lovely woman, who typically enjoyed the company of anyone she met or worked with. But there had been one woman, in all the years that Auntie Bridget told Evelyn stories of work, that she had never, _ever_ liked. 

Evelyn had heard all the horrid tales of this woman. How she acted sweet as sugar, but her true colors were never had to discern. A woman, who although would never say it outright in public, had always struck Auntie Bridget as very anti-muggle and anti-muggleborn. Actually, anti-anything that differed from pompous, ancient stereotypes. A woman named Dolores Umbridge, who in her aunt's words, was a total bitch. From her aunts description, Evelyn could only assume that this was in fact the same Umbridge, come to take up post as the Defense professor. The same Umbridge who was basically far too up in the Ministry for someone as prejudiced as Evelyn's aunt made her seem to be. The same Umbridge who was basically the entire reason that Evelyn's mum never trusted the Ministry.

Dolores Umbridge was going to be at Hogwarts. She was going to be _teaching_ at Hogwarts, involved in the inner fabric of the school. It struck Evelyn in an instant. For it was clear to Evelyn Lee Bishop in that one singular moment just exactly what was happening: the Ministry of Magic was involving themselves in Hogwarts.

_Oh fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carrion Flowers: Known for their rancid, rotting flesh odor, they are typically seen as a symbol of death.


	3. Shy Little Violets

From what Neville could gather, no one was pleased with Professor Umbridge's arrival at Hogwarts. Her speech had been lengthy and unnecessary and none of the students looked rather intrigued when she mentioned her hopes to get along well with everyone. Most of the older students had silently scoffed and the lot of younger kids had just looked rather confused with the entire scenario. Her _hem hem_ of interruption had caused Fred Weasley to pretend to gag and, although it was a normal expression for him, Harry looked rather concerned and annoyed.

But what threw Neville off the most was the look of sheer panic that crossed Evelyn's face when Umbridge took the podium and it was announced that she was the new DADA professor. It was a far cry from the look of general disdain she had given last year's DADA professor during the first feast last year and that was mostly because Evelyn had adored Lupin as a professor and had made that pretty clear to anyone who had barely brought the subject up. The curly haired girl had gone into a mass uproar when it was made public that he was a werewolf, honestly two seconds away from rioting that he was being discriminated against for something he couldn't control. But when someone else had taken the job last year, she had just been pissed off.

But today, at this particular feast, she looked petrified.

Not that it was easy to see, though. But Neville . . . Neville could just _feel_ it the second he looked at her. All throughout Umbridge's speech, Evelyn had been rigid, and her eyes had been set on the table in front of her. She had one hand resting out of view, but the other was clenched on top of the Gryffindor table, skin turned alabaster from how tightly she clenched her fist. Her mouth was set into a firm line and in a passing glance, most would assume she was just frustrated, royally pissed off even. But Neville knew better. For Evelyn, if one looked hard enough, was shaking.

It was subtle, something you'd only notice if you were really focusing on her. Granted, Neville focusing on her hard enough would probably be noticed by anyone glancing his way, most likely misconstrued as his _crush_ on her. But the Longbottom boy could care less in that moment if people thought he was dreamily gazing at her — he wasn't, he just happened to look long enough to notice something was wrong. Instead, all of his focus was on whether or not the girl in question was okay. The tremor that wracked her body was slight, barely noticeable, but it was there. Her arm would twitch every so often and Neville _swore_ he could see her trying to slow her breathing and that she was mumbling something to herself under her breath.

There was something terribly, terribly wrong.

For the rest of the time, Neville would spare her glances, although a few of them were rather long to be considered just glances. She seemed to calm down a bit once Umbridge excused herself back to her seat, but she wasn't as engaged as she had been before the Sorting. She paid Dumbledore no mind as he got back on track with his yearly announcements, didn't laugh at the random quips that the Weasley twins would interject to the group surrounding them, and she barely registered when Dumbledore excused them all.

Neville clambered to his feet, grabbing his potted plant, prepared to make his way over to her and ask what was wrong when an Irish lilt sounded from beside him. "So, you claim yer not into her, but you spent the past fifteen minutes gazing at her, huh Longbottom?" Seamus asked jovially, giving his taller friend a nudge on the ribs.

The Longbottom boy sighed. "I wasn't _gazing_ at her," he replied.

"Your eyes were locked on her, it was sort of creepy, mate," Seamus told him.

Neville furrowed his brow. "How is it that you always manage to see me the _second_ that I start even glancing in her direction?"

Seamus shrugged. "Maybe because you're _always_ looking at her?"

Neville's mouth opened and closed for a few moments, the boy lost for a comeback. Eventually, he settled on groaning before moving away from Seamus. Instantly, his eyes went to lock on the spot that Evelyn had been sitting with their older housemates, but the curly haired girl was nowhere to be seen. His brows furrowed — he'd only stopped to be teased by Seamus for a moment, where could she have gone?

 _Why so concerned about a girl you claim you don't fancy, Nev?_ The little voice in his head had a teasing tone, much like the one that Seamus and Dean held in their voices when the topic of Evelyn was brought up. Great, even his conscience wasn't on his side. He didn't fancy Evelyn Bishop, he was just a concerned . . . friend? They were friends, right? She was close with Dean and Seamus and he hung around them enough to hang around Evelyn. That made them friends. She wouldn't have asked him to tutor her if she didn't like him. She liked him — well, not _like_ him, but like him enough that she'd let him teach her Herbology.

There, they were friends. Take that, conscience. The teasing voice didn't perk up again, instead leading him to sigh before awkwardly wedging himself through the slew of students clambering to their feet. There were plenty of first years jostling around him to get to the prefects, though barely any of them came higher than his waist — were they all this tiny when they started school, he wondered briefly — and he was trying his hardest to make his way down to where Evelyn had been sitting. It was as good as any place to start.

By the time he got to where Evelyn had been sitting, the was area empty seeing as the Weasley twins, Alicia, Katie, Angelina, and Lee had departed. Most of the hall was departing, new students being corralled by prefects and returning students slipping out the doors with their friends. There were still hordes of students as far as the eye could see, but Neville still managed — somehow — to pinpoint a familiar head of curls by the teacher's tables. At the far end of the table, stood in the corner by the wall, was Evelyn Bishop, hastily speaking in hushed tones to Professor McGonagall away from the other teachers and Dumbledore.

Even though he could only see half of her face, it was still easy to make out how distressed Evelyn looked, a definite decline from her earlier stature. Before she had been frustrated and shaking. Now, even from a distance, Neville would argue that she looked as if the world were about to end. His expression of confusion fell into a frown, wondering why she looked upset. And before he could talk sense into them, he readjusted his grip on the plant and his feet began moving towards his head of house and his . . . friend.

It only took a few seconds for his long legs to bring him near where the two stood, but it was only when he was by the teacher's table that he was able to truly hear what they were whispering about.

Evelyn was staring at the professor in complete shock, her voice even trembling slightly as she quietly exclaimed, "If the Ministry is involving themselves ㅡ "

McGonagall was having none of it. She wore her usual stern expression, although this one seemed to be tinged with . . . was that sympathy? He'd seen a myriad of expressions on McGonagall's face over the course of four years at Hogwarts, but to see her looking at Evelyn like that confused him even more. "Miss Bishop, you're just going to have to trust me on this. Nothing and I repeat _nothing_ will happen with her here."

 _Were they talking about Umbridge?_ They had to be. No one else was new. Well, the first years were, but Neville couldn't imagine overdramatic, friendly, ray of sunshine that was Evelyn Bishop being deterred by an eleven-year-old. A Herbology O.W.L., maybe, but not a scrawny little kid.

Whoever they were speaking of, Evelyn clearly didn't like McGonagall's answer. If anything, her distress and annoyance only heightened by tenfold. Her fists balled and un-balled for a second. The girl looked close to tears She took a deep breath as the hands visibly shook, before shaking her head at McGonagall. "It's not even just about the . . . _thing._ You heard the Sorting ㅡ oh, hi Neville."

In the middle of her sentence, her peripheral vision had strayed, leading her to see none other than her soon-to-be tutor standing near her and McGonagall. Her eyes had widened when her head had turned in his direction, almost in fright. Neville's cheeks instantly heated, an embarrassed blush covering his skin as he was caught, pretty much eavesdropping. McGonagall turned, giving him an unimpressed look.

"Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall greeted, giving the boy a nod. The older witch then turned to peer down her nose at Evelyn. "Remember what I've told you, Miss Bishop."

Evelyn, who still looked like she was close to tears, even with the widened eyes from Neville's surprise appearance, swallowed thickly and gave her head of house a nod. "Yes, Professor," she said with a smile, although it didn't reach her eyes.

McGonagall could most likely sense this, could sense the distress that Evelyn was in, but nodded at the two teenagers before taking her leave. She headed off towards Dumbledore, most likely to have a word with him. This left Evelyn and Neville standing near each other, a space that got smaller when the girl took a few steps towards the boy.

Glancing down, Evelyn nodded gently at the pot in his hands. "You're not gonna demonstrate with that again, are you? I don't think Stinksap green is really my color."

Clearly trying to make a joke, it fell through fast. She looked like she was trying to compose herself as best as she could, plastering a smile on her face. Again, it didn't reach her eyes, something the Longbottom boy could sense in a second. He had seen her smile before, real genuine smiles, and this wasn't one of them. This wasn't the smile she wore when Dean accidentally ate a snot flavored Every Flavor Bean or the one that she wore when Seamus singed his eyebrows off for the twentieth time. It wasn't the smile she had worn just last Christmas, when Neville had stuttered over his words and somehow managed to tell her that she looked pretty in her Yule Ball dress. And it most definitely wasn't the smile she wore when Neville agreed to be her tutor just hours ago on the train, a memory still fresh in Neville's mind.

No, this smile was false. Sad. Hollow. The kind that Neville had begun associating with the ones he etched on his face when jokes were made by his housemates at his expense or the ones that he wore at St. Mungo's while visiting the parents he had only gotten to know after everything had been taken from them. They were sad smiles, the one that someone wore when the world either didn't know you were hurting, or you refused to let the world know. Those were the smiles that Neville knew, but ones that he didn't know with Evelyn.

The normal ray of sunshine girl had a ring of dark clouds circling above her head, ones that had cropped up the second that Umbridge had taken the podium. She had been discussing the new DADA professor with McGonagall, Neville just knew it. He didn't know why, but he knew the drenched in pink woman had to be the cause, with her _hem hems_ and cheerful fake smile.

It was then that Evelyn finally spoke again, tilting her head as she asked Neville, "Did you need something, Nev?"

It snapped him from his concerned thoughts, noticing the confused expression that was starting to work away her face as she took in the fact that he was studying her face. Did he need something? From her? Oh. OH. Right, he had come over and interrupted her conversation for a reason, hadn't he?

 _Idiot._ Great, the voice was back. He paused for a few more seconds after her question, before the voice spoke again. _She asked you a question, might want to answer it, you git._

Oh, right. "Um . . ." he started, quite possibly the worst conversation starter ever. She nodded, urging him to continue. "You, um, well, I couldn't help but, uh, look over during dinner. And, uh, you looked rather, um, upset."

Her brows furrowed, before a smile — an actual Evelyn Bishop smile — seemed to spark across her face. It brightened her expression and even her eyes seemed to light up as she began to laugh quietly at his stumbled sentences. Biting her lip in amusement, her expression seemed to take a one-eighty, reverting back to how she had been during the earlier portion of the day.

"So, I looked upset and you came all the way over here to see if I was alright?" she asked. Somewhat nervously, Neville nodded. If anything, that seemed to make her even happier. "Aw, Neville, that's so sweet of you. Thank you."

He blushed again, cheeks flaming red as he ducked his head down. Evelyn giggled softly, a pretty cheery sound. It made Neville's lips quirk up in the corner, though he kept his eyes firmly focused on his shoes. He was going to have to get used to her saying things like that to him if he was going to make it through tutoring without blushing the entire time. And — wait, what the bloody hell was he on about? All she said was thank you. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn't like he had a crush on her. Merlin's beard, Seamus was right — he needed to pull himself together.

His silence must have unnerved her, because a moment later, Evelyn teasingly murmured, "You're acting like the shy little violets, Nev,"

Neville's small smile fell into a line of confusion, his brows scrunching together as he looked down at her. "The what?"

She stared at him oddly for a moment before a lightbulb went off above his head. "Oh, right, you live with all magical folk. My fault, sometimes I forget not everyone has one witch and one muggle in their home," Evelyn rambled, fidgeting with her hair. "Anyways, it's from a muggle fairy tale. It's called _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. But this muggle company, Disney, made a cartoon movie ㅡ that's the one I know the most by heart. It's meant for children, I suppose, but I like to believe the magic is for all ages. Anyways, the shy little violets — they sing."

Giving him a conspiratorial wink, she spread her arm out as if to gesture towards the hall with the magical ceiling. He glanced up only a split second, already aware that the ceiling had been enchanted to look like the night sky, just like it was on the first of September every year. But nothing she said did anything to unravel his confusion. He knew wizarding fairy tales, like _Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump_ and _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot._ Those were the bedtime stories that he had gotten as a child. He had heard mentions of a few of muggle tales, mostly from Dean, who had two muggle parents, and Seamus, who like Evelyn had a muggle father. But he was certain they had never made any mention of singing violets, which honestly shouldn't have been as surprising to him as it was.

"What?"

"The flowers, they sing songs," Evelyn stated, not paying any mind to Neville's deepening confusion as she continued to explain. There was a rather large grin growing on her face as she talked about one of her favorite childhood movies and Neville briefly noted in his confusion that he was happy she no longer looked sad as she kept talking. "But the violets are shy. And they want to sing the song about the shy little violets. But the bitchy daffodil is all _oh, not that old thing_ and it makes me sad because the poor little violets just wanted to sing the song that they knew the best, y'know?"

"I'm going to be completely honest, Ev, I don't think I understood a single word you just said."

"I'll have to show you Disney movies sometime, then," Evelyn told him with a grin, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "Maybe you could visit me during the holidays or during summer break next year. I have a television set at home on account of my dad being a muggle, so we wouldn't have to worry about how to watch them. We could make popcorn and watch them! I could show you _Alice in Wonderland_ and _Cinderella_ and _Peter Pan,_ that's another one of my favorites! Oh! And _The Little Mermaid_ — don't worry, the mermaids in the muggle world are a lot prettier than the ones we learn about in class."

Neville's brain seemed to stop working for a brief moment, stuck on the part where she said she wanted to watch her favorite films, with him. At her house, with him. She wanted to see _him_ during breaks _._

(Godric, okay, maybe he _did_ have a smidge of appreciation for the girl before him. The blush held steadily on his cheeks and his heart seemed to be working double time as she rattled on about the differences between muggle fairy tales and wizarding ones but he didn't notice any of it because he was a little too busy with the way his stomach felt like someone had let a whole cage full of Cornish pixies loose in there.)

(Wait, wait, wait. Did he just admit to potentially — _potentially_ being the key word that he was holding onto tightly — fancying Evelyn Bishop? Him, fancying Evelyn Bishop, who he just managed to put down as a friend? Evelyn Bishop, who people had been hounding him about fancying for nearly three and half years now? _That_ Evelyn? What the bloody hell was his brain thinking? Him, fancying Evelyn? He couldn't reckon anything good coming from that, except maybe a laugh at his expense.)

(No. He didn't like her. He couldn't like her. He shouldn't like her. He didn't. He definitely didn't.)

(Narrator: he was, in fact, extremely wrong.)

Evelyn paused in her ramblings, noticing that Neville was, once again, staring at her. She came to a full stop, cringing a bit when she realized how long she had been talking and how most of the students had filed out of the hall. She brought her hands in front of her, wringing them a bit nervously as she considered maybe she was being a bit too much. She had a tendency to do that a lot, flair for the dramatic and all.

Breaking Neville from his internal monologue, she said, "I mean, that is, if you'd want to watch them with me? You don't have to or anything, I mean, it was just a silly idea. Probably a bit stupid."

"No!" Neville practically cried out.

Evelyn flinched at the volume of his tone, another thing that made him blush. She began to giggle again. "Oh, alright then. I thought I had freaked you out a bit by asking you to come over. It would just be a friendly thing, I swear I'm not trying to ask you on a date or anything. God, Dean and Seamus would have a field day! Like, a girl and a boy can just be good friends, right? Like, we're gonna be Herbology buddies, for Godric's sake! That's the pinnacle of friendship right there."

She said it with a laugh, as if the idea was ridiculous. Of course she'd say that. See, nothing good would come of him fancying her — which he didn't, by the way, to make that clear. It wasn't like having her laugh at the thought of them going on a date didn't hurt or anything. It didn't, because he didn't like her. Okay, maybe he did. What would he know.

But, because he was Neville and he was used to making a blushy mess of himself, just nodded and pretended to laugh along. "Yeah, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

"Damn straight they wouldn't. Same way I never let Dean live down the fact that the entire castle is basically betting on when he and Seamus and gonna get together," Evelyn remarked, before nodding her head towards the door into the halls where the last of the stragglers were finally heading out of. "Wanna head upstairs?"

"Alright," Neville replied in agreement, hefting his Mimbulus mimbletonia pot. They began walking a few steps, heading through the rows of the four house's tables, before he thought for a moment. "Wait, so how much is in the betting pool on Seamus and Dean now?

"Um, I don't have an exact figure, but the twins have said it's pretty high. They better not get together earlier than I have betted on, I swear," she said with a grumble, although there was mirth in her eyes, happiness at the idea of her two best friends getting their heads out of their asses and getting together. As they exited the hall and started making their way towards the stairs that would bring them closer to Gryffindor tower, she asked, "You wouldn't happen to know what the password to the door is, would you?"

For once, Neville did. He nodded somewhat excitedly, a quick moment that made Evelyn grin when she noticed the way that his eyes lit up. He lifted his pot a bit, as if to make a point with it. "I heard Hermione reminding Ron what it was. Mimbulus mimbletonia! I'll be able to remember it for once!"

They fell into silence again as they started heading up the marble staircases, even going to take a few shortcuts that Evelyn knew like the back of her hand, teachings that Fred and George had passed down to her over the years. It was a comfortable silence as they headed to their dormitories, silence that wasn't bothersome or uncomfortable. But it did make Neville think and it made him want to ask a question.

"So . . . are you really okay?" he asked eventually as they got through the last of the shortcuts, deposited at the end of the corridor that would take them to the Gryffindor common room. "From dinner, I mean?"

"Oh, that."

Neville began backtracking, wondering if he'd made her uncomfortable, noticing how her step slowed a bit and her face fell. "I-If, if you don't want to talk about . . . it's fine. You don't have to. I wasn't, um, I was trying to push you or anything. I was just wondering if you wanted someone to lend an ear or something, it was stupid — "

"Neville" Evelyn let out, cutting him off. She gave him a grateful smile, though it was a bit hollow. "I don't mind telling you. I know you'll keep it to yourself. And besides, people are going to be complaining about it within the coming days anyway, might as well make a statement and be the first." She gave a laugh. It wasn't too genuine.

"So . . . is it about the lady in pink? The new Defense teacher?"

She nodded, brushing one of her curls from her face. "Mhm. My aunt — Auntie Bridget — she works with Umbridge at the Ministry. Different departments and all, but she knows her. Nev . . . she's a nasty woman."

Neville furrowed his brows, for the thousandth time that night. "How so?"

"Well, Auntie Bridget said there was a work party once. Umbridge got drunk on some sherry. She started saying . . . vile things, really. Really vile things about creatures and muggles and muggleborns. Really disturbing stuff that doesn't belong in this world," Evelyn began, her tone becoming somewhat angry.

"Really?" Neville asked, eyes widening a bit.

"And then there was the bill she proposed two years ago. It's some discriminatory decree that basically prevents anyone with lycanthropy from having a full-time job! It's ridiculous, the people who are werewolves can't help it. They didn't choose to be the way that they were! And to take away their ability to work . . . I mean, werewolves aren't bad people. Think of Professor Lupin! He was the best Defense professor we'd ever had, and the Ministry wants to treat him like . . . like some sort of abomination! Not to mention how she came up with an idea about tagging and rounding up merpeople, like that was ever going to go through."

The werewolf bit had been something he had heard her go on about before, last year during school. It had been something that had come up numerous times, Evelyn swiftly turning from overdramatic cherry Evelyn to Evelyn, the werewolf rights activist. It was honestly something he admired about her, the way she refused to allow anyone speak ill of Lupin or anyone like him. She took snide comments about werewolves personally, practically forcing the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan to drag her away from brewing fights on occasion.

Neville was confused though. Why would Dumbledore hire someone like that? Surely he must know about the way she was. "Why is she here then? If she's really this bad?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts, obviously. They don't like the fact that Dumbledore is backing Harry. They've been running smear campaigns against the two of them through the Prophet the entire summer, haven't you heard?"

He had. "My gran doesn't believe what the Prophet's been saying, says they're the ones going downhill. Cancelled our subscription and everything. She — well, actually . . . _we_ believe Harry."

"So do I," Evelyn mumbled, as they neared the portrait of the Fat Lady. "My mum's said the world's started going dark again, same way it did when You-Know-Who rose to power the first time. That's not a coincidence, Nev."

Neville nodded. He knew. Oh, he knew.

It was silent for another moment before they noticed, in their last few feet towards the door, that someone standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. Harry.

"No password, no entrance," the portrait told Harry haughtily.

Neville perked up from beside Evelyn. "Harry, I know it!" He rushed forward a bit, leaving a beginning-to-smile Evelyn to pick up her pace. Lifting the plant to show Harry, he said, "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once! _Mimbulus mimbletonia!"_

"Correct," the Fat Lady answered, the door swinging open.

Harry, Neville, and Evelyn climbed through, the latter of the three snickering a bit.

Neville turned to glance at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she told him, a shy smile on her face. "You're just cute when you get excited about your Herbology stuff."

And with that, she headed past Harry and Neville, joining Parvati and Lavender by the couches. Harry, who had clearly overheard, lost his melancholic frown for a moment to give Neville an amused look. The Longbottom boy didn't care. He was too busy trying not to turn crimson red and have heart palpitations.

Godric, maybe he _was_ a shy little violet, especially when it came to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shy Little Violets: Featured in the 1951 Muggle film Alice in Wonderland.


	4. Lobelias

For as long as Evelyn had been friends with the Weasley twins, she had become convinced that they had a death wish.

Granted, this wasn't a very original opinion. The twins were daring and bold, rarely caring for how their grandiose plans were going to end if it meant someone was going to get a laugh out of it. Jokesters by nature, they'd begun leaning into the business side of their hobby, prepping for a fully functioning joke shop in the future. With this came product ideas and scraps of paper filled to the brim with random product designs and potential spells to make things work right and, of course, prototype items.

Prototypes that they desired testers for.

It was for that reason alone that Evelyn knew she shouldn't have been surprised with what she saw the first morning of classes. She'd managed to wake up spectacularly early, only a few minutes shy of her alarm which was a new record for her. After pulling herself together and making sure her chocolate stash was safe inside its new hiding spot away from Lavender's greedy fingers, she had made her way down to the common room to be greeted by the twins' newest installment.

One of them was leaned up against the wall while the other was brandishing a brightly colored flyer, large grins on their faces as he began plastering it to the bulletin board. Evelyn's steps slowed as she neared them, greeting dying in her throat in place of something else.

"What are you two up to now?" she questioned, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to see over the shoulders of the boy hanging up the poster.

The one leaned against the wall — George, she determined, after eyeing the slope of his nose for a moment — cocked his head at her. "This? We're simply in the beginning stages of building our empire, Evie."

"Our lowly, humble beginning before we skyrocket to fame," Fred agreed, fiddling with the papers position.

Evelyn rolled her eyes but a smile tugged at her lips. And then her eyes finally caught the words on their poster.

**_GALLONS OF GALLEONS_ **

**_Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? Like to earn a little extra gold?_ **

**_Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs._ **

If that wasn't enough, it was followed in parentheses by _we regret that all work is undertaken at applicants own risk._

Yeah, that didn't sound terrible at all.

The smile had long fallen off her face and Evelyn was left to stare dumbfounded at her two friends. Did they actually think this was going to work out in their favor? Posting an advertisement looking for people to test their products, when everyone _knew_ how that, despite their genius end stage results, their stuff tended to backfire in its early stages?

Who would be stupid enough to buy into this idea?

A gaggle of slightly loud yet skittish first years entering the common room gave her a potential answer. The knowing look Fred and George shared confirmed it.

Okay, so they were going to go after the younger years, the fresh meat who hadn't been exposed to the absolute madness they were capable of cooking up. Just brilliant.

Look, Evelyn knew it made sense. They needed testers, the younger students were easy to convince. They were also awfully annoying, so yeah, maybe slipping them a few potentially defective things _could_ be funny. Hell, there was a whole group of second year Gryffindor boys that Evelyn had a bone to pick with — bar Dennis Creevey, though, he was a delight.

But while Evelyn figured she'd have a laugh, she knew this wouldn't fly. There were prefects who would see it and fucking Merlin, McGonagall popped her head into the common room every now and again. Did the twins really think Minnie was going to let this happen?

The plan was entirely idiotic.

Which was why, after Fred had finally finished tacking up the poster, Evelyn promptly told them, "This plan is entirely idiotic."

If George or Fred were upset by her comment, neither showed it. Instead, they both turned to her with matching smirks, shaking their heads at her.

"Oh, Evie," Fred started, reaching out to tug playfully on one of her curls. She swatted his hand away, trying not to laugh. "You're always doubting us."

"It's quite hurtful, really," George added. "Isn't it, Fred? You'd think our biggest fan would have more faith in us."

"I'm not your biggest fan?"

"That little crush you had on one of us your first year says otherwise, love."

Evelyn sputtered for a moment, face reddening. This amused the twins, both of them having a laugh at her expense as she relived that one week in her first year where she'd become moon-eyed around them. In her eleven year old self's defense, Evelyn figured anyone would have fallen for them. And to be fair, she hadn't crushed on _both_ of them, just one.

It started during one of the Quidditch matches against Ravenclaw, when some brawny fifth year had sent a Bludger spiraling towards the Gryffindor section of the stands. More specifically, right towards her face. From what she could remember, one of the twins had swiftly flown in and knocked it out of the way, effectively saving her face from looking like she had slammed it into the stone wall of the castle. To this day, she wasn't exactly sure which twin it had been — this had been well before she'd figured out the differences between them.

But leave it to Fred and George to milk that story for all of eternity.

"That's not relevant," Evelyn said after a moment, narrowing her eyes at them. She pointed to the sign. "You're not going to be able to use first years as testers for . . . what _are_ you making anyways?"

"Among other things, we're very proud of our Nosebleed Nougat."

"One bite and you'll be on your way from a dreadful hour with Binns to the infirmary — "

"Or wherever you want, really, because once you're on your merry little way, you can just pop the antidote."

"Which we _technically_ still don't have, actually . . . " Fred pondered. "Might lose a kid or two, to be honest."

"Sad, really," George mused in agreement.

Evelyn wasn't sure which part she should take more issue with: the fact that they didn't have an antidote for the Nougat and basically suggested a kid might bleed out, or the fact that Binns, resident ghost professor who had been dead so long he'd forgotten all about human issues, would actually let a kid leave lecture for a nosebleed.

She settled for sighing, one eyebrow poised as she brought up the biggest issue with this plan. "Hermione's going to have your heads, you know that right?"

Despite having officially been a Prefect for, like, less than twenty-four hours, Evelyn just _knew_ from her hair to her shoes that if anyone was going to take the job seriously, it would be her roommate. While so far she hadn't seemed as pretentious about the role as past Prefects (cough Percy the prat Weasley cough), it was clear that Hermione was (usually) very by the book.

And in nowhere in that book was a section on letting antidote-less Nosebleed Nougat go free.

But, like most glaringly obvious issues with their plans, George and Fred seemed extremely unbothered. She figured they must have had something up their sleeves to deal with Hermione (and by extension, their brother, Ron, who was the other fifth year Prefect, although Evelyn knew Ron would sooner marry the Giant Squid than attempt to get his mischievous brothers in trouble), because the simply shook their head at her as if she was a naive little girl.

"You quit worrying that pretty little head of yours and let us deal with Granger, alright?" Fred said, giving her a rather demeaning pat on the head that made Evelyn purse her lips in annoyance. Why was she friends with them again?

Instead of asking this (because the question only ever pulls the same answers from them, like _you can't live without us_ or _we're your lovely eye candy_ or _we totally saved you from getting detention with Filch that one time two years ago,_ which like sure she's thankful for, but like really?), Evelyn turned her attention to the stairs leading up to the dormitories, where footsteps had begun to grow louder.

Stepping into the common room was Neville, the hands that were usually carrying whatever plant he was focused on at the moment filled with a few schoolbooks instead. He was working on tucking them into his book-bag as he headed towards the portrait hole and was focused on not much else.

Grinning, Evelyn tossed a farewell over her shoulder to the twins, who were looking like they were going to begin trying to drum up business with some clueless first years. She hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder and picked up her pace, managing to slip around a few third years to exit through the portrait right behind Neville.

"Morning Neville," she chirped, slowing a bit as she fell into step with him.

Her soon to be Herbology tutor, bless his heart, practically jumped in place. His wide eyes found her beside him and he let out a breath of relief when he realized it was her.

 _Note to self,_ Evelyn thought, _Neville is definitely more jumpy than I remember._

"Hi Evelyn," Neville replied after a moment, voice cracking just the tiniest bit as he tried his best not to look like someone who had just suffered a minor heart attack. Evelyn pretended not to notice.

"Heading down to breakfast?" she asked, although the question was pointless. It was morning after all and they all had to be in the Great Hall anyways for new schedules. He entertained it either way with a nod and the two continued heading off in that direction. As an afterthought, she asked, "Dean and Seamus already leave for breakfast?"

"No, they were still up in the room when I left." He looked slightly uncomfortable at the topic and when Evelyn gave him a questioning side glance, he sighed. "It was really awkward all last night and this morning, to be honest. Don't think Seamus is happy with Harry still."

She rolled her eyes as they made their way down one of the few stationary staircases in the castle before quickly getting on one that began to move just as they stepped onto it. Evelyn stumbled a bit, but managed to catch the railing. Neville teetered a bit longer, though, and she was quick to snatch the back of his robe, tugging him upright before he went sailing over and down three stories to his death.

That would surely put a damper on their first year.

(It would also mean Evelyn would be totally screwed Herbology-wise, but she didn't like to think of herself as a selfish person, so she was trying to ignore that part.)

(But, like, again, she didn't want to live in a cardboard box and die of the plague, so, y'know.)

"Mind the staircase, Nev," Evelyn told him, giving him a grin and his shoulder a gentle pat.

His cheeks went red. Probably embarrassed, Evelyn figured. Stuttering slightly, he said, "t-thanks."

"No problem. Anyways, I told Seamus to come off it yesterday. Swear that boy's as stubborn as an ox."

Neville didn't bother to agree or disagree — the knowing look on his face said enough. The two of them had already discussed that theProphet was rubbish last night, so Evelyn felt it wasn't necessary to mention that she wanted to throttle whoever was in charge of that shitty smear campaign. Plus, she figured that might scare Neville off a bit and, like, she _really_ needed him to be unafraid of her if they were going to be spending time together studying plants and whatnot.

The rest of the trip down to the Great Hall was spent in comfortable silence that had a grin tugging at the corner of Evelyn's lips. She was realizing that over the course of the past four years, she hadn't spent a whole lot of time alone with Neville. Usually Seamus and Dean were there to add to the group, her two best friends always making sure to invite their other best friend along. They'd spent enough time together for Evelyn to know that she liked Neville, she really did.

But there was something about the way that the silence between them wasn't awkward at all that had Evelyn making a note that they _should_ have been spending more time without Dean and Seamus (if, for no other reason, to not have all that fucking romantic tension in the room, like fuck just get married already — but also, like, not too soon because she had money down on their get together time frame). Spending time with Neville, even just a walk down to breakfast, now falling in line behind a mashed up group of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, was nice. Easy.

Evelyn liked easy.

While Neville was also an easy person to be around, he was also thoughtful. Took time to remember things about his friends and made sure to always make sure that his friends were okay.

Which was why, when they began making their way into the Great Hall, he asked, "are you okay? After last night, I mean?"

Evelyn had the misfortune of allowing her eyes to stray towards the teacher's table. She was able to pick out Umbridge all too easy, a bright shade of pink nearly covering her from head to toe. The easy, comfortable feeling that had blanketed her for a bit fell, leaving her with a pit to form in her stomach. Her lips pursed as they slid into an empty section of the Gryffindor table, Evelyn's gaze never straying from the wretched Ministry woman.

"Just peachy."

* * *

The one good thing to come out of breakfast, Evelyn had found, was her schedule. She had been worried that Herbology was going to start today and she'd have another trial by fire (read: near death experience) with whatever plant Sprout decided to pull out for them. She was pretty certain she just wasn't ready to face that on a first day. But then McGonagall had come out of nowhere like a fucking angel and handed Evelyn a gift.

Her first Herbology class of the term wasn't scheduled until tomorrow, which meant that she had a whole day before she would inevitably almost lose a limb to a plant. It was quite possibly the best breakfast of Evelyn's life.

(No, seriously, she had — through a mouthful of bacon, mind you — exclaimed, _oh thank fucking Merlin_ when she had realized today was a non-Herbology day.)

(She had then promptly sworn again when she realized they had double Potions _and_ History of Magic _and_ little miss pink bitch. Also Divination, but she figured Trelawney telling one of them her annual death prediction would _at least_ give a little bit of a laugh. But still, she wanted to scream _fuck_ from the top of her lungs at her schedule.)

(McGonagall had not looked rather thrilled with her. But that was fine. Honestly, Evelyn wasn't really sure her Head of House had looked thrilled with anyone.)

Neville had looked slightly deflated when Evelyn had told him they wouldn't need to start tutoring sessions right away. Apparently, he'd been really looking forward to them. _Must really love talking about plants_ , Evelyn thought. She was just happy to not have to enter a greenhouse just yet. The less she could worry about that Herbology O.W.L. right now, the better.

However, the high that Evelyn was riding on came to a full, screeching stop at her last class of the day. She wasn't really sure the last time she had been dreading Defense this much, but if her Auntie Bridget's stories were anything to go on, she knew that having to deal with Umbridge was probably going to make her want to fling herself off of the Astronomy Tower.

The pit that had formed in her stomach upon seeing Umbridge this morning was nothing compared to the one that wove its way through Evelyn when she stepped into the classroom. She filed in with her housemates, none of them looking thrilled at the prospect of yet another new Defense professor, especially not one who worked for the Ministry.

Dressed in a god awful sweater, the bitch in question was already at the front, an all too forced saccharine grin on her face. 

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek to prevent her from mumbling something heinous under her breath, instead opting to silently slip into the empty seat next to Neville, their table next to the one Dean and Seamus were sharing. Dean glanced over at her, an expression on his face that was unreadable to everyone but her. She knew what he was silently asking, but hell, did she not want to think of the answer. At the look he gave, Evelyn just shrugged.

His guess was as good as hers, after all.

When everyone had settled, Umbridge stood, gleefully saying, "well, good afternoon!"

Maybe, she hoped, that Auntie Bridget was wrong. Maybe her normally extremely truthful aunt just didn't like Umbridge and had grown a new personality trait of telling inaccurate tall tales. Maybe Dolores Umbridge wasn't the bitch in sheep's clothing everyone was expecting.

The _tut tut_ that she gave when almost no one greeted her in return told Evelyn that her wishful thinking was pointless.

"That won't do, now, will it?" Umbridge asked, her voice sugary but dripping hidden malice all the same. "I should like you, please, to reply _good afternoon, Professor Umbridge._ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

 _You've got to be shitting me,_ Evelyn couldn't help but think. A glance at the table beside her showed that Dean was more than likely thinking the same thing.

Once Umbridge got a reply that was satisfactory to her, she continued on. "There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

While the rest of the class looked disappointed, as _wands away_ had always been code for _this lesson is going to put you to sleep_ , Evelyn figured it was probably best as she stashed her wand in her bag. If she had been allowed to keep her wand out, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep herself from hexing Umbridge if the class continued going south. And that wouldn't go well for Umbridge, really, considering last semester Ginny had taught her the nastiest Bat Bogey Hex Evelyn had ever seen.

From the sliver of Harry's face that Evelyn could see from where she sat, she was sure he was thinking something similar as he glowered at their professor.

While Evelyn daydreamed about causing bats made of boogers to fly from Umbridge's nose, the woman in question had busied herself with displaying the course title on the board before clasping her hands together.

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed _any_ Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year," Professor Umbridge stated, sounding rather scandalized at the thought. Evelyn had to hold back the eye roll threatening to occur. "You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

The course aims, all Ministry-approved and boring, appeared on the board at once and Evelyn let a small sigh escape her lips as she pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill. Glancing at Neville, she gestured at the small jar of ink he'd produced from his bag when she realized she'd forgotten her own. He nodded and jutted his chin towards it slightly, as if to say _go for it._

The two took turns dipping into the ink, before getting to work on Umbridge's pointless busy work. A blush coloring Neville's cheeks when they had accidentally reached at the same time, hands nudging one another. If Evelyn noticed his scarlet face, she pretended not to. Neville was thankful for that.

When Evelyn was halfway finished with the aims, all focused on legality and context, Umbridge asked, "has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?" 

Once again, the response she got from the class wasn't up to her standards. Evelyn could barely bring herself to give anything but a silent nod.

"I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question," Umbridge started, sounding every bit like a whiny little baby, "I should like you to reply _yes, Professor Umbridge_ , or _no, Professor Umbridge._ So, has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

A resounding chorus of _yes, Professor Umbridge_ rang out through the room. This delighted Umbridge. "Good. I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, _Basics for Beginners._ There will be no need to talk."

While Evelyn found she'd rather revisit the idea of tossing herself off of the Astronomy Tower than read whatever Wilbert Slinkhard had deemed a good introduction for his book, she lugged the thing out of her bag anyways. She fanned to the page in question, the fluttering of pages of the books around her the only sound that would be heard in the room for minutes. 

Readings were tedious, Evelyn decided after about four paragraphs, her eyes feeling like they were going to droop shut. She'd never fallen asleep in a Defense class before, but hell, if there was ever a good time to start, it'd probably be now. She had her head balanced on her elbow, hoping that would at least keep her upright.

Once she had become fed up with Slinkhard's discussion on beginner's defense (which, honestly, seemed more suited for fucking eleven year olds than students preparing to take an O.W.L. in the spring), she glanced up from her book. She had expected the class to look as bored as she felt. Their attention, however, all seemed to be trained towards the front of the class, where Hermione sat quietly with her hand in the air.

While Hermione raising her hand in class was the farthest thing from odd, a teacher blatantly ignoring a student's hand _was._ Even Snape, in all his gloom and doom, would eventually call on whatever poor soul who thought it'd be a good idea to ask a question in his class. Umbridge, on the other hand, seemed to being doing the absolute most to ignore that fact that Hermione wanted to ask something.

Eventually, it got to the point where the entire class had looked up from their books, everyone nudging their table mates to make sure everyone knew that Umbridge (who Evelyn _totally_ caught looking in Hermione's direction) was ignoring a student's question.

Umbridge pursed her lips. She did a shit job of looking at Hermione again, acting as if the hand in the air had only been there for five seconds and not five minutes. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

Despite finally being called on, Hermione didn't sound pleased. "Not about the chapter, no."

Umbridge clucked her tongue in disdain. "Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims." 

Umbridge's brow furrowed. "And your name is — ?"

"Hermione Granger."

In a carefully calculated voice, she replied, "Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

The blunt tone Hermione spoke in next had Evelyn both shocked and proud. "Well, I don't," she disagreed. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

Sure enough, on the parchment where Evelyn had copied down the aims, there indeed wasn't anything about using spells. _What fresh hell is this . . . ?_ Evelyn thought, eyes narrowing as she read over them again. Not using defensive spells? Surely they needed to practice them at some point?

Umbridge tittered at the front, like Hermione had just revealed an embarrassing secret at a sleepover. Replying as if Hermione was two years old and not the smartest person in the room, she said, "Using defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

_Okay, what the fuck?_

Ron seemed to be on a similar, yet less vulgar train of thought, blurting out, "We're not going to use magic?"

Umbridge looked as if Ron had just caused a troll to stomp over her entire family. "Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. — ?"

"Weasley." As an after thought, his hand soared in the air, quickly joined by Harry and Hermione's.

She seemed to ponder which student was the lesser of two evils before looking at Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes. Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

While the question pointed to the obvious answer of _yes_ , Umbridge seemed to think the best thing to do was to ask a question in return. "Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?"

"No, but —"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the _whole point_ of any class is."

"What the bloody hell are you qualified for, then?" Evelyn mumbled under her breath, voice so low only Neville seemed to hear her. He glanced at her, a cautious look in his eyes. Evelyn shrugged at him, continuing in her soft spoken whisper, "surely it couldn't be teaching?"

While Evelyn had mumbled under her breath to Neville, Umbridge had both shot down whatever remark Harry had made and was now facing a whole slew of questions from other classmates.

Beside Neville and Evelyn's table, Dean was waiting quietly with his hand in the air and the way he wasn't trying to speak out of turn just yet seemed to appease Umbridge.

"And your name is?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

Dean nodded, gesturing to where Harry was sitting. "Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free —"

"I repeat, do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" she asked, trying her best not to look irritated with his question.

Dean looked confused. "No, but — "

She didn't wait for him to finish speaking, instead moving on with her point in a rather rude fashion. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed . . . not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds."

At that, Evelyn's head snapped up, fury promptly evicting the unease that had been settled in her stomach for the beginning of the class. _Was she actually serious?_

Evelyn could feel her blood begin to boil at the language that Umbridge had used. Clearly, Auntie Bridget hadn't told a tall tale at all. Umbridge was anti-werewolf and rather vocal about it. She laughed over the phrase _dangerous half-breeds_ as if they were discussing a comic strip in the daily newspaper. Like it was ridiculous to think that Remus Lupin, who was hands down the best professor that they had ever had, was unworthy of a teaching position.

Evelyn would bet everything she owned that Umbridge thought werewolves were unworthy of living. She remembered the bill that Umbridge had championed years prior, the one that would refuse anyone with lycanthropy a job simply because of something they couldn't control.

It was a good thing her wand was in her bag.

She thought of Lupin, who wore cardigans with sleeves that usually covered his hands. How he always carried chocolate with him and was willing to share with a student if they were upset. Who was always willing to lend an ear, even if he was up to his neck with lessons to plan and papers to grade.

Remus Lupin, who was nothing short of a perfect example of what a good man was.

A good majority of the class seemed shocked that Umbridge would make such a bold claim so loudly in a classroom. It was reminiscent of when Snape had set that god awful assignment a few years back, asking them to detail the dangers of werewolves all because he clearly hated Lupin's guts.

Evelyn was doing her best to stay quiet, knowing she'd probably say something dreadful if she opened her mouth while anger was boiling this much under her skin. Dean seemed to take care of that though, angrily calling out, "if you mean Professor Lupin, he was the best we ever — "

"Hand, Mr. Thomas!" Umbridge snapped. She seemed entirely displeased with the claim that Lupin could have been a good teacher. Evelyn's fingernails were digging into her skin from where she'd balled her fists up. "As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal."

Evelyn couldn't contain herself anymore. "And your vile prejudices are Ministry-approved, then? Won't teach us proper spell work but you'll make sure to slip in just how much you hate werewolves, is that it?"

On one side, Neville gasped. On the other, Dean was wide eyed and Seamus was putting his head in his hands. Up front, Harry looked thrilled for the briefest moment.

Umbridge stilled. The expression on her face was calculated, an air of not caring, but Evelyn could tell she struck a nerve.

"I think you'll find that you are currently out of line, Miss . . . ?"

"Evelyn Bishop," the girl snapped. And then to make sure Umbridge knew where she stood, she added, "you work with my aunt at the Ministry. Bridget Cavanagh?"

At the mention of her aunt's name, Umbridge pursed her lips. She stared at Evelyn for a moment, something unreadable yet rather malevolent in her gaze. 

She turned to face the class. "What you all need to understand is that while I aim to be your friend and helper throughout this course, I do expect a certain amount of respect that you seem to have not been taught to show your elders. This class, for years it appears, has needed reworking. You have been misled. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"

Hermione sounded to be at her breaking point. "No we haven't, we just — "

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Professor Umbridge retorted, but made no move to call upon Hermione when the latter did what she asked. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you — "

Ah, so she was going to have a go at fake Moody now, great. Not like it was important to mention that he was really Barty Crouch Junior, who'd managed to evade the Ministry and Azkaban's security for _months_ before anyone realized that the Mad-Eye teaching at Hogwarts wasn't actually _the_ Mad-Eye.

Evelyn stared down at her desk, eyes nearly glaring holes into her copy of _Defensive Magical Theory._ Around her, the class continued to shout and questions about the course and their past teachers, the lot of them clearly coming together on the same page that Umbridge was definitely not their friend. Evelyn wasn't sure she'd ever been this angry in her life. How could Dumbledore allow this to happen? How could the Ministry, out of hundreds of people, choose _this_ woman to be the one to infiltrate Hogwarts?

Like, sure, she knew that the Wizarding government sucked ass, but this? Really? So much for the future of the Wizarding World resting on their shoulders.

While she hadn't been paying attention, Harry clearly had. His fed up tone was enough to knock Evelyn from her thoughts, causing her to look up quickly. With an aggressive hand in the air, he questioned, "And what good's theory going to be in the real world?"

Umbridge looked bored. "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?"

"Who do you imagine wants to attack _children_ like yourselves?"

"Hmm, let's think . . . maybe Lord Voldemort?"

Around the room, it was like Harry had set off an explosion. Ron gasped, but it was drowned out entirely by the tiny scream Lavender let out. Beside Evelyn, Neville went sideways in his seat, the only thing saving him from hitting the stone floor below was Evelyn's hand darting out to grab his robes for the second time today.

As with everything that had been said so far, Umbridge was not pleased with his reply. She made a show of removing ten points from Gryffindor before standing from her desk. "Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead — "

As expected, Harry called out, "he wasn't dead, but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr. Potter you have already lost your House ten points do not make matters worse for yourself. As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

 _Sounds fake, but okay,_ Evelyn thought to herself. She glanced at Neville, who looked uncomfortable with everything that was happening, but then again when wasn't Neville uncomfortable?

"It is NOT a lie! I saw him, I fought him!"

As if she was about to pull out the winning hand, Umbridge remarked, "detention, Mr. Potter! Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a _lie_. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are _not_ in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried — "

Evelyn was worried she was losing braincells by hearing this blatant disregard of factual evidence of You-Know-Who being back. 

" — By all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, _Basics for Beginners_."

This left no room for discussion, but clearly, even with detention, Harry wasn't about to go down without a fight. He stood from his seat, which seemed to alarm just about everyone, and he made no move to sit back down, even with his friends whispering for him to do so.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" 

Oh hell.

And then, like a punch to the gut of everyone listening, Umbridge replied, "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

Anyone with half a brain knew that Cedric Diggory was capable. He could handle himself. He had walked into that maze to win, not to die. 

Briefly, a memory of Harry returning, a deceased Cedric and Triwizard cup clutched in his grasp, flashed in Evelyn's mind. Bile rose in her throat as she shuddered.

In a shaky voice, Harry replied, "it was murder. Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

While no one was prepared for him to say the name again, it didn't seem to cause as much of a commotion this time. Still, Evelyn made sure to reach out for Neville's hand under the desk, silently making sure he stayed upright on his stool. He nearly jumped in his seat, but Evelyn paid him no mind as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Neville couldn't tell, through the heat rising up his neck, if the reassurance was for him or her.

By this point, Umbridge had called Harry up to the front, quickly jotting something down on obnoxiously pink parchment. Once he'd angrily stomped to her desk and the note was sealed tightly with her wand, she handed him the rolled parchment.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear."

Harry didn't say anything to her or anyone else as he snatched the note from her. He quickly made his way out of the room, his bag swinging aggressively at his side as he marched down the aisle. Everyone jumped in place as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Lips pursed, Umbridge nodded. The voice that came out of her mouth still had that aggressively fake sweetness to it, but it was clear that she was done playing games today. "Now, then. Unless anyone would like to join Mr. Potter in detention or would care to lose points for their house, I encourage you to all return to your reading. _Basics for Beginners,_ page five."

No one dared argued with her. Evelyn still thought a Bat Bogey Hex would do her some good.

The rest of the class moved frustratingly slow, the room quiet enough to hear a pin drop of the floor. No one tried to start another rousing round of _you're a horrible teacher and a liar_ with Umbridge. She seemed all too happy with herself, having forced them into silence. Evelyn wondered how many training classes she had on that specific topic at the Ministry.

When class was over (and they knew it was over by the way Umbridge refused to let them pack their things away until she gave them the go ahead), everyone seemed to want to get out of there as quickly as possible. Evelyn had never shoved a book into her bag faster. Hermione and Ron were the first people to exit, their quick pace no doubt set to find Harry as possible.

Evelyn turned to her friends, making a general motion of _let's get the fuck out of here_ to which they nodded eagerly too, disturbed expressions etched on their faces from what they'd just endured.

But of course, some people just have the worst luck.

"Miss Bishop," Umbridge called right when Evelyn was about to follow Dean and Seamus out of the classroom. "A word, if you will?"

Dean and Seamus turned to look at Evelyn, who was now wearing a bitter frown as she stopped in her tracks. Biting the inside of her cheek, she jutted her chin in the direction of the door, silently telling the two to go on without her.

Evelyn steeled herself for a moment before turning to the front. She headed up the aisle towards the head of the room, the rest of the class filing out until it was just Evelyn alone with the woman who was quite possibly the new contender for her list of least favorite teachers.

Poor Snape, coming second best in yet another area of his life. Pity.

Through her teeth, trying her best to look like she didn't want Umbridge to burst into flames where she should, Evelyn asked, "yes, Professor?"

"I'd like to discuss your outburst this period, Miss Bishop," Umbridge replied, lips formed into a thin line of disappointment. 

"What about it?"

"In short, it was highly uncalled for. I don't know what Ms. Cavanagh has divulged to you for you to paint me in such a horrible light, but — "

Unable to control herself, Evelyn interrupted. "You did enough yourself when you called Professor Lupin a half-breed," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Umbridge stood then, as if her standing stature would do something. At five feet, she was still a few inches shorter than Evelyn, which was not in any means intimidating.

Nevertheless, the woman continued, her tone level. "You'll do well to remember that I am a professor here, Miss Bishop, and it would be unwise for you to treat me with anything but a certain level of respect." And then, with another sugary smile, she added, "Don't you agree?"

She didn't.

"Yeah," left her mouth anyways.

"Tut, tut," Umbridge squawked. "A _yes, Professor Umbridge_ is the correct response."

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Evelyn forced herself to say, "yes, Professor Umbridge."

The toad-faced bitch nodded, not entirely pleased but satisfied enough, before waving a hand towards the door. Evelyn turned on her heel quickly, stalking out of the Defense classroom alone. Never in her fifteen years had a lie she ever told a professor sounded so blatantly obvious.

Professor Umbridge had seemed to realize very quickly that she was not wanted in this territory. It was also clear that people like Harry and Evelyn were going to make sure she remembered it, even if they went about it in different ways. 

Though the Bishop girl had conceded today, she knew from her hair to her shoes that she was not about to let Dolores Umbridge think she was anything _but_ a vile little enemy. She might come in thinking she ruled the place, but she was sorely mistaken if she thought the students were going to let her walk all over them.

Defense teachers were, after all, easily replaced at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lobelias: A flower that is a sign of malevolence.


End file.
